


I Want Some More

by PoetHrotsvitha



Series: Very Good Bad Thing [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub undertones escalate to overtones, Even more tropes, F/M, Let's get Roth fucked up 2k17, Sibling Incest, The trash continues, i'm still sorry, in hindsight this should be a surprise to no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoetHrotsvitha/pseuds/PoetHrotsvitha
Summary: Fryecest Modern AU continues. Tropey and smutty nonsense with a heaping side of angst. You can look for something redeeming about this but you'll be disappointed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME BACK YOU SINNERS 
> 
> Unless you're new, in which case, just WELCOME
> 
> If y'all are here for smut (hey I'm not one to judge), there's a few smatterings but it properly starts in chapter 8.

It seemed to take forever to get up the stairs. Jacob just wanted to be home, to be able to flop on the sofa and watch some telly, to forget about his long day.

Overseeing the delivery of alcohol shouldn’t be that fucking difficult, but the Alhambra really seemed to have a knack for hiring absolute wankers. Chasing down a missing shipment had taken most of the afternoon, and he had only got to the end of that rabbit hole to discover that some of the morons had drunk the stock and assumed that no one would notice.

It was the sort of stupid plan that he might've approved of, once upon a time.

When he got through the door of the flat, he could see that an extra pair of shoes were by the door, big leather brogues that were polished to a shine. “Roth?” he called out, sliding his coat off and tossing it on a chair.

“My dear.” Roth poked his head out from around the kitchen. “You’re quite late, so I went ahead and started cooking.” He was wearing one of the dumb ‘Kiss The Cook’ aprons that he kept insisting on buying for Christmases, and the smell of something spicy was heavy in the air.

“Yeah, well, delays on the Circle Line, I had to take a detour. What is that?” Jacob asked, walking over to sniff at the pot.

“Lentil curry,” Roth said, pulling Jacob close and pressing a long kiss to his cheek.

Jacob leaned into the kiss and twisted his mouth at the food. “That sounds… Disgusting.”

“You are uncultured swine,” Roth snapped, batting a hand at Jacob’s ass and shooing him out of the kitchen. “My considerable talents are wasted on you.”

He grabbed a beer on the way out, cracking it open as he walked. Back in the living room, Jacob relaxed into the sofa, closing his eyes with a long sigh. Tugging his mobile out of his pocket, he was about to toss it aside when he saw the notifications.

_[(1) missed call- unknown number]  
[(1) new voicemail- unknown number]_

Frowning, he dialled to access the message, putting the mobile to his ear while he reached for the remote.

What he heard made his heart nearly stop.

_“Hello, Jacob. It's your Mother.”_

He hadn't heard that voice in- God, how long had it been- almost 8, 9 years? Not since the day when he and-

No. No, _no_ , he had devoted enough energy to keeping those memories locked tightly away, and he didn't want to dredge them up now. Or ever. Even a casual brush against that part of his brain made it hard to breathe.

Don’t think about her.

Because if he did, there was the worrying possibility that even if he _tried_ to remember, he wouldn’t be able to. There was a time when every inch of her face had been carved into his mind like marble, fixed to the point where he could summon it without any effort. But now, it was abstract, more the sensation of ghosting touches and a vague feeling of contentment instead of anything sharp and clear.

And that- that knowledge hurt most of all.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he missed the rest of the message, only snapping back to the present when the tinny female voice asked him to _press 1 if you wish to hear this message again._

Shaking his head to try and clear it, he replayed the voicemail.

_"Hello, Jacob. It's your Mother.  
_

_I know that we haven't spoken in a long time, but I hope you will listen to this message.  
_

_Your Father was diagnosed with terminal stage lung cancer and things have been going poorly for a while. The doctors now say he has maybe a week or two left. We would like you to come down and see us._

_He wants to say goodbye.”_

\---

It was strange to think of Father as being weak enough to die. Intellectually, Jacob knew that everyone had to go.

But Father had always somehow loomed larger than life.

The curry might have been nice, but Jacob barely tasted it, chewing mechanically while his mind was a million miles away. Roth noticed, eyes narrowing over the table. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, uh…” Jacob shook his head, still disbelieving. “My Father is...  Dying? Of cancer? And I just found out?” Saying the words out loud somehow made it more real, and his whole body immediately felt colder.

“Oh my _dear_ ,” Roth immediately purred, putting his hand over Jacob’s. “Let me help.”

Roth’s idea of helping was to fall back on the same solution that he generally offered for any situation: get drunk, get high, and have a good rough fuck to clear the mind.

Usually, it worked. Tonight, it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t just about Father- it was about all the decisions that had led up to being here in this moment, on the outskirts of London in his small rented flat, lying in bed next to Roth at two in the morning. About the estrangement from his parents and why it had happened, about how that had played out in the long run. He remembered being so _certain_ back then, and he wasn’t sure whether it made him want to laugh or cry. Perhaps both. Laugh, because he had been so foolishly optimistic. Cry for the same reason.

Even the intoxication couldn’t hide the muddled thought that he spent so much time running from, no matter how much he tried: He wished he had done things differently.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have left home. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have followed Ev- _her_. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have spent those years working while she studied, coaxing her through all-nighters with coffee and serving as taste-tester #1 for her various explorations in cooking. Hiding from the world in that cramped flat. Making giddy plans for the future.

It was about after that, when everything unravelled so quickly. Well, at the time, it had felt quick. Looking back, it was easier to see all of the little things that had built up over time, taking little fissures and turning them into chasms.

He didn’t _want_ to wish that he could take all of those little things back, but he did all the same.

Lying in the dark as Roth snored lightly, he listened to the muffled bustle of the street beyond the windows. In the quiet, he could almost see a spray of freckles under bright blue eyes, framing a quirking smile.

\---

It was easy to get time off work when you were sleeping with the boss.

He left the next day, determined to try and face this head on. And, of course, there was the fact that it didn’t sound like Father had a lot of time for him to be pissing around making up his mind.

Jacob leaned into the corners a bit further than he probably had to as he rode his bike down to Crawley, speeding along a bit faster than strictly necessary. It was strange to have so many emotions rattling around at once- it wasn’t something that generally happened. He didn’t like it.  

Pulling up in front of the house was bizarre, everything remarkably unchanged. He almost bailed before he knocked on the door, but the tremor in the message steadied his nerves. _He wants to say goodbye._

The door opened slowly, creaking a little on its hinges. When Mother stepped into the light, he could see that she looked older than he remembered, with streaks of grey now in her hair. It surprised him more than it ought to have. Of course, she would have aged. He had just… Never really thought about it.  

When she saw him, her hand immediately flew to her mouth in shock. “You…” she started. “You look just like your Father around when we met.”

He hooked his thumbs into his jean pockets a bit awkwardly and they stared at each other for a few beats.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head and gesturing him inside. “Please, come in.” Numbly, he followed her along as she led the way to the kitchen, still looking almost exactly as it had on the day when he and- no, damnit, _no_. He slammed the door on those memories firmly shut for the dozenth time in as many hours. He wasn’t sure if _she_ would be here as well, but he was going to go mad if he faced her with those regrets running around in his head.

“Tea?” Mother said, and he nodded, grateful for something to distract him a bit.

They sat in silence for a minute as the kettle whirred, building in pitch. He hardly knew where to start. “So,” he said hesitatingly, “Father-”

“Is expecting us in visiting hours tomorrow, and probably doesn't have much time left,” Mother interrupted quietly, folding her hands, “but first, there's something else I need to ask. Jacob… When was the last time you saw Evie?”

He stiffened and he heard his voice roughen. “It's been a while, why?”

She nodded, slowly, eyes still on her hands. “Has it been longer than five years?”

The kettle abruptly whistled, shattering the silence. Dragging the chair out with a rattle, he stood, easing his shaking hands by filling the teapot. “I don’t know- I guess so? Listen, I really don't want to talk about her, okay? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm here for Father.”

“I know,” Mother said, standing and following him to the counter, hesitating with every movement. “But you should probably know-”

She broke off as the door creaked open and a small child wandered into the room. He was barely higher than Jacob’s waist, wearing a blue jumper that had some gaudy cartoon figure on it, his bare feet padding against the tiles. He froze when he saw the two adults, face scrunching a little in panic. Immediately darting to Mother, he ducked behind her legs, small fingers grabbing a handful of her skirt. Big brown eyes peered out at Jacob, openly curious.

What in the hell? Since when was the Frye family home a place for neighbourhood kids? Father didn’t even particularly like small children- had he really gotten _that_ lonely?

Forgetting about the tea for a moment, Jacob looked over to Mother for answers. Rather than providing them, though, she turned and slowly sank to the ground until her eyes were level with the child.

“Thomas,” Mother said, putting a gentle hand to the boy’s unruly curls, “Why don’t you say hello to your Uncle Jacob?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas was an absolute terror from Delhi to Heathrow. It was all Evie could do to clench her hands over her eyes and try not to scream as he barrelled up and down the aisles of the plane for the sixty-third time, galloping on an imaginary horse and waving at the other passengers.

She lightly grabbed him as he passed their seats, makings what must have been the _hundred_ and sixty-third attempt to get him to behave. “Listen, Monkey, I know you're pent up, but why don't you sit for a little bit? The plane is going to land soon, okay?”

“But…” he said, face falling. “I like riding my horse. Who's a good horse?” he said, giving the phantom beast a pat. “You are.”

“Yes but if you could just sit-”

“I don't _want_ to,” he pouted, lower lip beginning to wobble. “Sitting is boring and I don't want to be sitting.” She could see the hiccoughing tears starting and she tried to chase away the oncoming migraine at the thought of the other passengers hating them even more than they already did.

“Okay,” she said, “but you must try and be quieter- and when the plane starts to land, you have to sit, okay? Everyone has to. Even the flight attendants.”

“I will,” he promised, before he broke into a giant toothy grin. “Neigh, neigh,” he whispered to himself, beginning another dart down the aisle.

Evie tipped her head against the seat and bit back a groan. The boy had _far_ too much of his father in him.

\---

Mother was waiting at the terminal.

Through the whole process of learning the news about Father’s illness, Evie hadn't been able to work up the courage to explain about Thomas. It should have been easy enough to say, in theory ( _“hello, Mother, nice to talk to you for the first time in almost a decade and sorry to hear that Father is dying, oh and also by the way I have a four-year old now”_ ), but she always chickened out and hung up before she could blurt out the words. Now, as they walked through the end of customs, she had to watch Mother’s reaction as her face lit up in recognition- and then slid into shock as she looked to the child holding onto Evie’s hand.

It only took a few more steps to reach her. “Hello, Mother,” Evie said, keeping her voice even. Looking down to Thomas, she gave his hand a tight squeeze. “Thomas, this is your Grandmother. She's my Mother, just like I'm your Mother.”

There was a beat before Mother knelt down and gave Thomas a warm smile. “Hello, Thomas,” she said. “I'm very happy to meet you.”

Evie gave him a bit of an encouraging pat. “Go on, Monkey, give your Grandmother a hug.”

He deliberated for a moment before he stuck his chin out and boldly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her neck. “Hello,” he said. “I'm very hungry.”

“I have sandwiches at my home,” Mother said. “And cake. Do you like cake?”

“I do,” Thomas agreed easily, taking her hand as she stood. “Mummy makes a carrot cake that I like.”

Evie smiled. “Grandmother taught me how to make that cake.”

Mother look back and forth between them, wide-eyed, before she nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “I can make one for you today, Thomas, how about that? Now, let’s go to the car, shall we?”

\---

Full of sandwiches and cake, Thomas was sent out to the gardens to explore. He was over-exhausted and clearly hyper, but sleeping now would only prolong the jet-lag. Evie wanted to have an exhausted and cranky child for as short a stretch as possible.

Mother made tea for them both as they sat at the table, watching the little boy sprint back and forth outside while he chatted to imaginary playmates.

Evie bit her lip. “I imagine you have some questions, so.” She cradled the hot cup. “Go ahead.”

Mother fiddled with the hem of her sweater, clearly uncomfortable. “Will I… Get to meet his Father?”

She was ready for this one, had prepared for it. “No, it was a short-lived relationship. He was another post-doc, he wasn’t ready for the responsibility, and I told him he didn’t have any obligations. I don’t even really know where he is now.”

Nodding slowly, Mother took this in. “How old is Thomas, and when is his birthday?”

“Four, and August. I got pregnant in November, a few months after arriving in India. That was… Not a fun time.”

“And you’ve been alone this whole time?”

“For the most part.”

For a few minutes, the only sound in the kitchen was Thomas’s chattering from outside and the occasional gurgle of the sink. So Father never _did_ manage to fix that, Evie thought, stomach curling a little in sadness.

Without saying a word, Mother stood and left the room. When she came back, she was holding a thick book in hand, one that Evie immediately recognised. Laying it on the table, Mother traced the title softly, letting her fingers run along the words: _Statistical Methods for Match Probabilities with Applications in Forensic Genetics, by Frye, E_. “We followed your career,” she said quietly. “The internet is a wonderful thing.” She flipped the pages a bit sadly, letting the cover fall shut with a thump. “Neither of us could make heads or tails of this, of course, but your Father was fiercely proud of you. He once said that he wished he could get you to sign this.” Her laughter had no humour in it. “He was sure that you were going to famous one day and that this would be worth a lot of money.”

Evie laughed as well, hating how hollow the sound was. “Not a lot of fame or money in academia, I’m afraid. As he well knows.” She pulled the book over. “You said we could visit him tomorrow, right?  Perhaps I should sign this and take it.”

“He would like that, I think.” They stared at the cover together. “You know, when I reached out to you,” Mother said hesitantly, “I was sure that I would find him with you.”

There was no need to clarify who she meant this time, and Evie’s stomach clenched. “No. No, he isn’t.”

“I didn’t track him down until yesterday- finally found one of those strange secondary school friends of his.” Leaning back, she sighed. “I left a message and asked him to come, but…”

Wonderful. Just what this trip needed to become even better. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Evie, how long-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Standing, Evie collected her dish and Mother’s, quickly moving to the kitchen and dumping them in the sink. “I’m going to go unpack for Thomas and I, if that’s all right. And then I might take a shower. I’m exhausted.”

Drying her hands on her trousers, she quickly went upstairs.

\---

The shower didn’t really help.

All she could think about was that beautiful laugh and a bristly chin, eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled because she made him happy.

If only everything hadn’t gone so _wrong_. If only that monster hadn’t sunk his disgusting claws into Jacob with the promise of work that would bring him respect. If only she had been perceptive enough to see that he was drifting and needed her, if only she had been patient enough to wait out his foray into that crowd and their vices-

She’d been down that path more times than she could count, but her answers never got any better, and the bitter fact remained:

She wished she had done things differently.

Stopping the water, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel, shivering a little as she left the warmth of the shower.

Until she reached to look for it, she didn’t realize that her hair dryer hadn’t made it to the bathroom. Damn. She hurried to her old room, where she dumped her case on the bed and started to rifle through it; if she’d been clever, she would’ve left the thing near the top of the bag-

There was a knock at the door. Mother, maybe, needing her help with Thomas? “Come in!”

The hinges creaked a little as the door swung open. “Evie?”

That wasn’t Mother.

That was a voice she hadn’t heard in years, one that was still ridiculously familiar.

She froze, every muscle tensing, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. She had thought she’d have more warning or- time to prepare- not that she’d be in a towel with wet hair, exhausted beyond belief- not that it mattered how she looked because it didn’t matter what he thought, of course it didn’t, but still-

Closing her eyes for a moment, she stood slowly, turning and facing the door.

Oh, God, he was as handsome as she remembered. More. His features had only become more chiselled with age, and his eyes were as beautiful as the ones she sometimes saw in her dreams.

“Jacob,” she said, cringing internally at how breathy her voice sounded, like a starry-eyed teenager.

“I met the kid,” he said, and her two separate worlds collided, confusing and disorienting as they crashed into each other.

“I…” she started. “He-”

His gaze and voice were curiously flat. “You sure didn’t wait around, huh?”

Something about his tone made her want to fold inwards, but her lifelong instinct in the face of that was to stand taller, so she squared her shoulders, holding the towel a little tighter. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mother told me. A few months after arriving, really? It took you that long to move past me and jump onto some other dick?”

Her jaw fell open, the injustice of it stinging. “It wasn’t-”

“Whatever- don’t even say it. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. I always did get the feeling that I was the more invested one.” Looking at him more closely, she now could see that he didn’t look angry as much as sullen, like he was somehow the wronged party in this situation.

Anger flared in her chest, hot and ready. “You _what?_ Now will you just wait one secon-”

“No, you know what,” he stepped back into the hallway. “This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come up here. I’ll do my best to keep out of your way and I’d appreciate it if you do the same. Thanks.” With a snap, he slammed the door shut, leaving her standing in the empty room, her hair still dripping on the carpet.

That stupid, moronic, clueless and _irresponsible bastard_ -

Taking a long and deep breath, she collected herself, putting a hand over her face and concentrating on the image of Father to try and remember what was important. She had to endure this. She had to be here. Then she and Thomas could go back to India, where they maybe never should have left in the first place.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't be a syndicate fic if I didn't keep the canon "terrible at communicating" aspect of the Frye family.
> 
> ALSO things have bottomed out now, so take a deep breath if that was upsetting. It'll be slow going but gradually improving from here on out.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner was fiercely awkward. Jacob was sitting across from Evie, mostly doing his best to avoid making eye contact with her.

It wasn't fucking fair that she still was so beautiful. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he walked in and she was just in a goddamned towel, her arms and long legs deeply tanned from her time in the sun. And then when she’d said his name so hopefully-

It made it hard to focus on his food.

The kid was chattering away happily to his left, explaining at some length about the various snacks that had been offered on the plane. “They had a pudding, and I liked that, but I didn’t like the chocolate because it tasted like _bleeeeeeurgh_. They didn’t have any of the candies from home though. I like poppins, they’re sweet and sometimes Jay brings them for me and Mummy lets me eat them after dinner. Oh and sometimes Jay takes me for ice cream, I like that too.”

“Oh?” Mother asked, moving her food around her plate. Jacob could see that she wasn’t eating much, but her attention was absolutely riveted on the child, like she was looking at a miracle. “That sounds nice, is Jay your friend?”

“Jay is my friend but he’s also Mummy’s friend,” the kid said, speaking through a mouth full of half-chewed food. “Sometimes they kiss on the couch when they think I’m asleep.”

Oh _did_ they now. Evie was in the middle of taking a drink of water and she choked on it, sputtering and taking a moment to regain her composure. “Monkey, why would you-”

“It’s okay,” he continued blithely, “I don’t mind. And Grandma has told me she has Grandpa.” No one had addressed the divorce, then, or perhaps a four-year old just couldn’t follow the concept. Next, the kid’s eyes turned on Jacob, bright and questioning. “What about you, Uncle Jake? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He looked down at his lamb chops for a moment. “No, no girlfriend.” He pushed some peas around before giving the kid a grin. “I do have a boyfriend, though.”

“That’s cool,” the kid answered, completely unaware of Evie and Mother’s wide-eyed reaction. “Does he have a moustache?”

“Uh,” Jacob said. “Yes.”

“Nice,” the kid answered, nodding like Jacob had said something profound. “And does he have a cool name? Like Captain Furious?”

Jacob genuinely wasn’t sure if he should start laughing or not. “Er, no, it’s a pretty normal name. Max.”

Evie stiffened across from him, her hands stilling over her food. “Max? Maxwell _Roth_?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You got a problem with that?”

There was a long and tense silence that even the kid picked up on, swivelling his big eyes back and forth around the table.

Evie pushed her chair back and stood, lifting her plate. “I’m sorry, Mother, I’m not very hungry anymore.” She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the kid’s head. “Please send Thomas up for a bath when he’s done? I’ll be upstairs.”

In a whirl of long hair, she was gone, leaving Jacob with a bitter taste in the back of his mouth.

\---

When Jacob climbed the stairs later in the evening, he caught a bit of Evie’s voice filtering through the bathroom door. Almost before he could think about it, he had stopped and was tilting his head towards the sound. “Yes, that's right, soap on your hands, now- wash your ears, where are your ears- no, Monkey, those are _my_ ears but- oh, okay, thank you for cleaning them, that's very sweet, but clean yours now- Good! Now you're a clean boy, and you know what mummies do with clean boys? They kiss them!” There was the sound of squealing childish laughter and splashing, which Jacob couldn't help but smile at. When it was joined by soft female giggling, the smile ebbed a little, replaced by a low ache in his chest.

Fuck, this was harder than it should be.

He listened to the low murmur of some book about dragons as he set up his old room to sleep, trying not to think about all of the times that he had shared this space with her.

When he went to go brush his teeth, Evie emerged into the hallway, closing the door softly.

Her smile disappeared when she saw him. “You,” she said quietly, voice low. “I cannot _believe_ you.”

The feeling at least was mutual, in that case, though he wasn't exactly sure what he couldn't believe. That she was here? That she was here with a kid? That she still made his heart beat faster as she walked closer to him, even after all these years? “Yeah, well, love you too, sister dearest.”

“ _Roth?_ ” she whispered, disgust written across her face. “Really, Jacob? It wasn't enough to be his lackey and his prize fighting dog, you had to go ahead and let him fuck you too?”

“You can be an incredible bitch sometimes, did you know that?” He'd forgotten how beautiful she was when she was mad, colour high in her cheeks.

She stepped even closer, enough that he could almost feel her breath on his skin, feel the warmth of the bath radiating off her. “Yeah, well, you- you're a complete bastard and I- I should be-” her face trembled with a mix of frustration and something soft, something that he recognised from looking in the mirror, “I should be so much angrier at you right now-”

“Angry at me _?_ ” he repeated, incredulous. “For moving on? Seriously?”

She recoiled a little. “You know it’s not about that, it’s about _him_ -”

Jacob pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to ignore the way that she was close, so close, her sweet smell bombarding his senses. Strawberries and something floral, just like he remembered. “For shit’s sake, Evie, I was fucking broken after you left, do you have any idea?”

Her eyes were wide and the words were breathed out as barely a whisper. “I didn’t- It wasn’t like I- I- God, Jacob, I missed you so much-”

It was hard to say who moved first. All he knew was that she was already twining her arms around his neck by the time he reached her waist, pulling her in close with a groan. When their lips met, it was angry, mouths open and moving gracelessly against each other, her nails dragging through his hair.

He spun them around and pressed her to the wall, and she didn't hesitate before jumping up to wrap her legs around his waist; his hands smoothly slid down to the sweet curve of her ass, holding her steady, kneading and trying to devour her quiet moans.

For the first time in years, he felt a deep sense of contentment ripple through him. It was completely at odds with the adrenaline that was ripping him apart and the blood pumping in his ears but there nonetheless, a steady undercurrent beneath a raging river. He wanted to touch her everywhere but he had to hold her steady, wanted to taste her skin but couldn't leave her lips- how could he have told himself that he didn't need this, that he didn't need her-

They were both jarred out of the kiss by a sudden _thump_ , followed by a growing wail.

She shoved him away and was sprinting down the hall before he could react, disappearing into her room. When he followed- after a few deep breaths- he found her with the kid cradled in her lap, stroking his hair while big fat tears rolled down his face. “Shh, shh, you just rolled out of your sleeping bag and bumped your head into the corner of the desk, see? Yes, I know it hurts, but you're okay, we’ll move the sleeping bag and it won't happen again.” The kid made some kind of blubbering noise, something that Jacob couldn't follow. “I know. I know, Monkey. It's been a long day for you. Shhh, it'll be okay. I'll stay here and we’ll read Dennis the Dragon until you fall asleep, okay?” She reached awkwardly and grabbed a book off the desk while the boy quieted himself a bit, wiping his sticky nose with his hands. “ _Once upon a time there was a Dragon named Dennis, who liked to hide all his gold_ …”

Turning his heel, Jacob walked back to his room until he could sit on his bed, head in his hands, trying to decide whether he was more elated or heartbroken.

\---

The next morning, Jacob was standing alone in the kitchen. He was blearily waiting for the coffee to brew when there was the patter of small feet.

He turned and the kid was standing at the door, hair sticking up in every direction. Unconsciously, Jacob reached up and smoothed down his own unruly mop, trying to get it to lie flat.

“Morning Uncle Jake,” the kid said, wandering to the table and pushing himself up onto a chair. “Can I have some toast?”

Jacob blinked. “Uh, sure,” he mumbled, putting some more bread in the toaster.

They sat in silence across from each other, munching on marmalade toast. Eventually the kid dusted off his little hands against his pyjamas. He seemed to be hesitating, until he finally looked up at Jacob. “Is the bike yours?”

“Sorry?”

“That super cool bike, is it yours?”

Jacob felt his lips twitch up in a smile at that. “It is, yeah.”

The kid’s eyes grew wide. “Can I touch it?”

Oh, why the hell not. He had no idea where Evie or Mother were, and the visiting hours for the hospital weren’t for a bit. “Sure.”

As soon as the words were out, the kid had leapt off the chair and was sprinting down the hallway, wrenching the front door open to get outside at record speed. When Jacob followed, a bit taken aback by how quick something so small could be, he found the boy kneeling in front of the bike and trying to get his hand under the clutch cover.

Darting forward, he immediately yanked the kid away. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, you don’t just go sticking your hand in shi- I mean, uh, stuff.”

“Okay,” the boy agreed gamely, grinning up at him. “How does it work?”

“Well,” Jacob said, setting the kid down and kneeling down himself, “there’s an engine here, and uh, it burns fuel in there- just like how you need food to keep going…” He trailed off, suddenly arrested by the smattering of freckles across the kid’s nose, so similar to Evie’s. The nose itself, though, that… He crooked his head. It wasn’t curved like Evie’s at all. If anything, it looked more like what he saw in the mirror every morning.

Now that he was searching more carefully, he could also see the kid had eyes that drooped ever so slightly downwards instead of being almond-shaped like his mother’s. And then there was that colour, almost a hazel in the early morning light. Just like- well just like- but that… That didn’t… That…

Oh holy shit.

Holy _shit_.

He suddenly felt a bit lightheaded. “Hey,” he said, interrupting the kid- no, not ‘the kid’, _Thomas_ \- who was now in full-flow about some story involving a motorcycle toy. “You, uh- you-” He floundered for a second. “Can I call you Tommy?”

“Sure,” Tommy said, abandoning the story to happily poke at the front tire with a stick he’d found on the ground.

\---

One extremely simplified explanation of combustion engines later, they went back inside and Tommy scampered upstairs.

Jacob made his way slowly into the kitchen, mind whirling. It couldn’t- he couldn’t- she couldn’t-

Could he?

Evie’s backpack was in the kitchen, slumped against the corner of the room. Keeping one eye on the door, he quickly rifled through it. Near the bottom, he found two passports carefully tucked away in a case with plane tickets and emergency contact information. He flipped Tommy’s open, looking at the old picture, clearly taken a few years ago. His cheeks were somehow even rounder back then.

Scanning the page, he found the birthdate: _August 14_.

Counting backwards, he did the math. It confirmed what Evie had already told Mother. Unless Tommy had somehow arrived two months late, she had gotten pregnant after she started her post at the University of Delhi.

Closing the passports, he tucked them back in her bag. It wasn’t that strange, he supposed, that Tommy would look like him. He and Evie weren’t twins for nothing.

Perhaps it was wrong to be disappointed, but as hard as he tried to ignore the feeling, it lingered.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PLOT THICKENS


	4. Chapter 4

The pavement blurred beneath Evie’s feet, her movements brisk as she jogged through the neighbourhood.

She had quickly checked in to make sure Mother would keep an eye on Thomas before leaving. It was strange but pleasant to have someone else to delegate childcare to; she’d made a habit of occasionally asking the Grandmothers in her apartment complex in Delhi to mind Thomas, but she never wanted to impose too much.

The morning air was sharp and clear and the streets were still familiar, even after a decade away. Other than a few new shops and the occasional extension added to a house, much of the neighbourhood was still the same. It meant there wasn’t a lot to look at and distract her while she was running.

Which, of course, meant that she was thinking about the kiss.

It had been a mistake, of course. And a terrible idea to boot. They had both moved on, and his ridiculous involvement with that bastard’s business- which had made things implode in the first place- had clearly only gotten worse in her absence.

And yet, and yet. When she thought about the solidness of his chest pressed against her, the softness of his lips- it still made her body grow warm with anticipation, her raised heartbeat not entirely from the exercise.  

She had always wondered what it would take to get Jacob to finally see Roth for what he really was. No amount of pleading or anger had worked, and she still didn’t have an answer. The thought made her throat tighten with sadness- because until she did, things could never go back to how she wanted them to be.

\---

The car ride to the hospital was tense enough, but Thomas absolutely refused to pick up on the mood of the adults in the car. First, there was a long discussion of a dead bird that he had found in the garden and how _cool_ that was, followed by his glowing assessment of marmalade, which Jacob had apparently given him for breakfast. “Oh! Oh, and Uncle Jake showed me his bike,” he added, practically vibrating under his seatbelt with excitement.

Evie nodded absently. “That’s nice, Monkey.”

“I can go for a ride on it, right, Mummy? We can go somewhere really fast? And I could sit on the-”

That jolted her out of her thoughts. “What? No, absolutely not.”

Jacob leaned around from the front seat with raised eyebrows. “Told you, Tommy.”

Tommy? She looked back and forth between them. The idea of them getting along was unnerving but… Immensely pleasing, for reasons that she didn’t want to think about too carefully.

Thomas sulked for the rest of the car ride, petulant that he couldn’t try and kill himself on a dangerous vehicle designed for adults. Once they were in the hospital, though, he was so distracted by all the sounds and lights that he forgot to be annoyed, clinging tightly to Evie’s hand as they made their way to the intensive care unit.

Arriving at the room was surreal. Father looked small, so dreadfully small in the bed, dwarfed by the beeping medical apparatuses around him.

He greeted Mother first, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Then he turned to Thomas, opening his arms. Thomas, to his credit, bravely stepped forward and accepted the hug.

“Hello, little man,” Father said, voice scratchy and raw. “Your Grandmother has told me a lot about you. I’m so glad that I got to meet you- you look just like a Frye.”

Thomas nodded, solemn, before he quickly scurried back and hid behind Mother.

It was Evie’s turn next, and she walked to the bed a bit nervously.

“Evie,” Father said, spreading his arms for another hug. When she leaned down, he smelled like antiseptic wash and hospital gown, so far from the Father that she remembered that it made her heart clench. “I was so proud of you when you got that fellowship. So, so proud.”

“I brought you my thesis,” she whispered, pulling away to reach into her bag. “I signed it.”

He chuckled a little when he flipped to the page, tracing his fingers along her name. “Now I just have to keep this and sell it when you’re famous.”

The separation, their last conversation, the long absence went entirely unaddressed. Evie could vaguely sense that there wasn’t _time_ , that it had all faded in the face of the immediacy of death.

As she moved away, she and Mother both held their breaths, looking back and forth between the two men as Jacob stepped forward.

There was a long silence. Jacob looked impassive, but Evie could see the tension writ large in the stiff way that he held his shoulders, the slight jump in his jaw.

Finally, Father lifted his hand slowly, holding it out towards Jacob.

After the slightest hesitation, Jacob leaned down and took it, giving it a brisk and lingering shake. Watching them both, Evie couldn’t ignore the feeling that this was as close to an apology as either of them could manage, too proud to back down but too aware of the possibility that this was probably their last chance to say goodbye.

With a little prompting, Thomas chattered happily with Mother and Father for the rest of visiting hours, leaving her and Jacob to sit a bit awkwardly off to the side. Just before it was time to leave, Evie ducked into the hallway to try and get control of her emotions; face in her hands, she heard soft footsteps before Jacob’s arms were warm around her shoulders, comforting and steady in their embrace.

\---

Later, the nurses would tell them that it was quite common for people to hang on for one last visit. Something about saying goodbye was important enough to stave off even death. 

When Evie was jolted from her sleep by a ringing phone at two in the morning, she just _knew_. There was no need to wait for Mother to come to her bedroom door to share the news.

\---

She let herself sleep in. Thomas had sensed her distress and crawled up into her bed in the middle of the night. Normally, Evie didn’t encourage it- children needed some independence, she was quite certain of this, and it was how she had been raised- but today she was willing to make an exception. He was splayed out on his back, astronaut pyjamas crumpled from his thrashing, and she used a bit of spit on her thumb to try and rub away a stain that he had somehow gained on his nose in the middle of the night. How had he even managed that? Did little boys magnetically attract dirt?

When she finally went downstairs, almost closer to lunch, Mother was sitting alone at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.

Evie set to making breakfast for Thomas. “How are you doing?”

“Numb,” Mother replied quietly, tracing the rim of her cup. “Just numb.”

When the toast was ready, she dragged Thomas away from inspecting a ladybug on the windowsill and sat at the table. “Where’s Jacob?”

“He’s gone back to London. Said he had to put his face in at work- but that he’d be back for the funeral.” Mother looked exhausted, deep rings around her eyes. “I’ve already phoned a funeral home, it’s planned for three days’ time. Will you help me plan everything?”

So, he had left. It was probably for the best, but it still brought that tightness back to her throat. “Of course.”

\---

The morning of the funeral, she went down the stairs and heard a rustle in the sitting room. To her surprise, when she poked her head in the door, she saw a familiar figure sitting on the sofa. “Jacob? I thought we were meeting you at the funeral home.”

He turned and shot her a rueful smile. “Had to come here first for this.” He held a bottle up, something that she didn’t recognize, giving it a brisk shake. He was in a proper suit, and she was surprised to see that his tie was done up properly- clearly something he’d picked up since she’d been away. It was disarming and utterly _unfair_ to see him so handsome.

The right thing would be to nod and leave. But she was too exhausted to be sensible.

She sat next to him, settling into the cushions. “What is it?”

“Father’s 1952 cognac. Always said he was saving it for a special occasion, do you remember? Figured he wouldn’t be needing it now.” It was already half empty.

He held it out to her, and after a moment of silent deliberation, she took it and pulled a long swig. It burned on the way down but somehow made her feel better, like someone else was acknowledging how hard this was.

The ceremony was non-denominational and short, filled to the brim with academics that Evie vaguely recognized from her childhood. They all tutted over her, over Thomas, over how _long_ it had been since they’d seen her, over how _proud_ her Father had been of her career, what a _pity_ it was that she had moved so far away. It was like living in an alternate universe where she and Father had always remained close, her role as a doting daughter never lost.

The tension built up steadily until she felt like she was teetering on the brink of sobbing, stomach a little unsteady from the cognac. Spotting an empty teapot, she left Thomas with Mother and fled to the kitchen at the back of the funeral home, making excuses about getting more water.

Much to her relief, the space was empty. She was able to set the teapot down and put her face in her hands, taking deep breaths, trying not to ruin her make up with tears.

God, it was all too much too fast, she’d only even learned that he was sick a week ago, it was too close and suffocating and painful-

There was a click at the door and she lurched up, but it was just Jacob, holding shattered pieces of a cup in his hand. “Oh,” he said awkwardly, stopping when he saw her. “Someone… Broke this, said I would clean up,” he explained, gesturing needlessly to the shards as he dumped them in the bin. “You okay?”

She blinked at him slowly. “No, of course not.”

“No,” he agreed, looking embarrassed. “Of course not.”

“I just keep thinking…” she trailed off, voice weak, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. “If we hadn’t, you know, if we hadn’t- then maybe I could have had more time with him- maybe I could have been there, cared for him, if only we had never…” _If only we had never fallen in love, if only we'd never acted on it, if only they had never found out_. The years had passed and she had always been too afraid to reach out and attempt to reconcile, and she never had wished she’d had the courage more than she did now.

When she took a deep shuddering breath and glanced up at him, he looked as though she'd punched him in the stomach. “Do you- do you regret it?”

For a terrifying moment, she couldn't answer.

He walked to her, voice tight, grief written all over his features. “Do you regret it?”

When he was this close, she could smell him, sandalwood and leather and _Jacob_. Tipping forward, she let her head rest against his shoulder, breathing out the word against his suit. “... No.”

He almost crushed her with the force of his hug, tucking his fingers against the base of her hair and cradling her head against his neck. “Thank God,” he said, voice ragged. “Thank God.”

It was easy to reach up and run her fingers along the stubble of his jawline, to where his Adam's apple was bobbing, feeling the racing pulse in his throat. She could feel the tight knot of tension that she'd been carrying around for days loosening gently, ever so slightly, making it that little bit easier to breathe. As with before, a distant part of her brain was lecturing her about boundaries and reasonable decisions and consequences, but she ignored it. It was easy to blame the cognac, but if she was completely honest with herself, she just wanted to be able to keep touching him.

She’d missed touching him so much.

They were tucked together as closely as possible when he turned his head and kissed her, brushing his lips over her own, slow and hesitant. She responded hungrily, letting her fingers curl in the fabric over his chest, opening her mouth to coax their tongues together. He tasted like alcohol, the bitter tang another sad reminder of Father’s hoarded treat.

The kiss deepened and they twined together, beyond sense and beyond reason, two open wounds bleeding against each other. When she started to untuck the edges of his shirt from his trousers, he drew back, voice husky. “Evie?”

“Please,” she mumbled, moaning breathily as the pads of her fingers made contact with the soft skin of his stomach, stretched taut over firm muscles just like she remembered. “Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-”

He responded by embracing her so firmly that he almost lifted her off the ground. Her toes skimmed the linoleum as he moved, eventually dropping her to clumsily open the door of a closet in the corner of the kitchen. It swung open to reveal a small walk-in space with walls lined with shelves and spare dishes; they wasted no time in tucking inside, her back crowded against the door as he fumbled with the zipper on the back of her dress. It had barely pooled around her waist before he was mouthing at a breast through the fabric of her bra, the heat of his breath electrifying even through the cotton.

Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard.

“Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch.

“Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest. Even if she was starting to feel like she was hiding from the inevitable.

She wrapped a leg around him and they rocked together, grinding, the heat and friction delicious even through her knickers. They had always fit together so perfectly this way. _This_ had never been complicated, it was everything _else_ , all of the other things that always got in the way-

His fingers reached to tuck the thin fabric aside and she stopped thinking.

She wasn’t quite ready and there was a moment of sharp pain as the movement stuttered, taking a second to draw her slickness out and ease his passage. He hissed into her ear and she clung to him tightly, closing her eyes against his shoulder, running her fingers along the soft downy hairs on the back of his neck. The door was digging against her shoulder blades and it made it difficult to move, so she just rolled her hips and rode each of his thrusts, biting down on her lip to silence her noises as his movements became deeper and fuller. Even when she let her eyes open a crack, she couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the cupboard, only feel his hands sliding against her back, his heartbeat against her chest, the aching and dizzying stroke of him inside.

Most of all, her mind was blank, so blissfully blank, empty of the churning grief and worry and regret. Tipping her head back until she slid against the wood, ruining her careful braids, she revelled in the silence of it, this brief respite from the storm.

How had she gone so long without this? How could she go back to being without it? She quickly banished the thought with all of its potential sadness, pulling him in for another kiss. The whole thing was messy, none of their movements carried through with any finesse, just clumsy and uncoordinated need. It was like being the best sort drunk. 

"Fuck," he whispered, his finger clenching tightly on her arms as he gasped and shuddered his release, thrusts so firm that she had to arch up on her toes. "Ffu-" 

If only it could have lasted forever. She kept holding onto him tightly as he trembled against her, only releasing him when the arch of her foot started to cramp. Drawing away slowly, she dragged her knickers back in place, trying to stop the stickiness from spreading beyond the cleft of her thighs. Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress, quickly undoing her braids to hide the evidence of his fingers digging in the strands. There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain. 

"Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place. 

He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was SAD. What happened to my silly smutty nonsense????? Jeez. You all still with me? I _promise_ things are going to improve. 
> 
> It’s sort of interesting, really, because I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms (shhhh shhhhhhhhh I’m a terrible person shhhhh) and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? 
> 
> Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL. This series literally started as an excuse to write smut every chapter and had a paper thin ridiculous premise, but now here we are?? Agonising about death??? Wtf????
> 
> Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if I'll ever write a Jacob POV chapter that isn't laced with profanity (no)

Hands on hips, Jacob surveyed his flat one more time.

He’d put sheets on the pull-out couch and bought some extra pillows. The bed wasn’t huge, but it was enough space for one woman and a kid- and he could always organize a cot if he needed to.

Everything that was sharp or easily breakable had been moved to the cupboard in his bedroom. Roth’s poorly-hidden secret stash of coke went down the loo. Jacob even made sure that he had milk in the fridge and bread that wasn’t on the verge of going mouldy, though Evie would no doubt be doing her own shopping.

He couldn’t think of anything else to do, but he was still full of restless energy. Going through his bedroom, he grabbed a pack of smokes and stepped out onto the balcony, scraping the box open. A bit shaky, he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag; it calmed his nerves, easing some of the tension in his shoulders.

Tipping his head back and letting the smoke whistle through his lips, he reminded himself of the facts. It was just going to be a short visit. Just while Mother was fixing up and selling the old house. Evie didn’t want to go to Devon with Mother, and he could hardly let her stay in a hotel.

Leaning against the railing, he thought back to the house. Knowing that it would be going to another family made Father’s death more real than anything else had, including seeing the little bag of ashes at the funeral.

He couldn’t find it in himself to be truly sad. It wasn’t like he’d ever gotten on with the old bastard, and the handshake at the hospital had done nothing more than emphasize the gulf that stood between them. It seemed to make Mother happy, so he didn't regret it, but it had hardly made a real difference.

And anyway, it might have been easy enough to forgive all the petty wrongs against himself. But the years of watching Evie cry over the estrangement when she thought that no one was watching- he was sure he’d carry that grudge until the day he died.

\---

Evie arrived bearing pizza. “I didn’t think we’d want to cook tonight,” she said, setting it on the table while Tommy bounced around the room.

Jacob nodded, gesturing towards the pull-out couch. “I know it’s not a lot-”

“No, no, it’s perfect,” she said, “we’ll be fine. I could hardly stay at the old place when they’ll be turning the water off for repairs.” She set her bag down, deftly grabbing Tommy by the collar before he lurched head-first into the corner of the table. “It was kind of you to offer.”

“No problem,” Jacob said, feeling the awkwardness hang in the air. They’d reached an unspoken agreement to not speak of the whole funeral-closet-incident, but it was at the front of his mind now.

“And you’re sure…” Again, just as Tommy prepared to launch himself through the glass windows of his cabinet, she took a handful of his shirt and redirected him. This was clearly a practiced motion, and Jacob was a bit impressed. “You’re sure you don’t mind asking Roth not to come by.”

It had been her one firm stipulation. He was hungry enough for time with her that he’d agreed to it. “Yeah, I’ve told him.”

“Great,” she said, opening the pizza box. “Let’s eat, then.”

Jacob was two slices in and Tommy had successfully gotten sauce in his eyebrows when the front door of the flat clicked open. Jacob tensed, frowning, stomach sinking at the knowledge that there was only one other person who had a key. Damn it all, why wouldn't the man just listen when he asked for something?

“My dear?” Roth’s voice called out. “I've come by to see if you have- oh,” he said, stopping short when he saw the three of them at the table. “I see I’m interrupting.”

Evie silently glared at him, lips pressed together, pulling Tommy towards her in a gesture that was almost protective. Quickly, Jacob stood, dusting the pizza off his hands. “Roth, this is Evie, my sister. And her kid-”

“You have a _sister?_ ” Roth repeated, eyebrows rising. “And a nephew?”

There was an awkward pause. “… Clearly,” Jacob finally said, wishing his door had a deadbolt.

Roth held his hand out towards Evie. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

The awkwardness grew even thicker when Evie refused to take it, pointedly looking away. Tommy, for once, was silent, watching everything that was happening with wide eyes.

“Right,” Roth finally said, eyes narrowing. “Charmed. I’ll grab what I came for and be on my way.”

Jacob’s stomach sank a little as Roth headed for his not-so-secret stash. “Yeah, that…” he said slowly, “that’s gone, sorry.”

Roth raised an eyebrow. “Gone?”

“Got rid of it,” Jacob said, hoping to stay as vague as possible.  

There was a pause. “Right,” Roth finally said again, scowl deepening. “I wish you’d told me, my dear. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Sure." Whatever. He could always replace the stuff.

With one last look at Evie, Roth walked towards the front door, prowling like a cat in that way that he always did when he was annoyed. As he left, the door slammed shut behind him.

Jacob felt the tension leave his shoulders as soon as he was gone.

Clearing her throat, Evie looked to her son. “Monkey,” she said quietly, “why don’t you go see if you can find some cartoons? My tablet is at the top of the bag, you can pick anything you’d like as long as it’s from the kid’s section, okay?” As he scampered away, she turned her gaze on Jacob. Man, if looks could kill. “You said he wouldn’t be coming by.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, gathering the plates and the now-cold pizza. “I told him not to, not a lot else I can do.”

“He has a key?”

“We’re together, of course he has a key.”

Evie’s lip curled like he’d told her he enjoyed eating garbage in his spare time. Standing, she followed him into the small kitchen. “I still can’t believe that you’re- you’re _with_ him. After what he did to you-”

He tipped the dishes in the sink and tried to push down the growing swell of irritation. “He didn’t do anything to me, Evie.”

“Didn’t do anything!” She put a hand to his eyebrow, to the scar that arced through the middle. “You nearly lost an eye!” Her hand trailed lower, stopping at the other line in his jaw and then to his stomach, where 12 stitches were neatly sewn above his navel. “You could have _died_.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t do that.”

She huffed at him. “He might as well have. He put you in that stupid ring with those stupid rules so he could make a bit of _money_ off brutes who like watching men try and kill each other, with no regard for your safety-”

It was a familiar fight, one that they had done nearly to death in the final days of their relationship. “I was good at something on my own, and I chose it myself, thank you, so fuck off.”

She ignored him. “Are you still fighting for him? I swear to God, Jacob, he is such a manipulative bastard-”

“Look,” he finally snapped. “Lay off, okay? Stop acting like you have the moral high ground here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He started to wash the dishes aggressively, teeth gritted while he shoved his hands in the scalding water. “Last time I checked, I’m not the one that got knocked up by a fucking stranger.” He kept his eyes determinedly on his hands, refusing to look up and see if he’d hurt her.

"That... He wasn't-”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how he couldn’t have been.” He slammed a plate into the drying rack with a bit more force than necessary. “So seriously shut up about judging me for who I’m sleeping with. At least I’d known Roth for years.”

She was getting angry now; they’d always had tempers to match. “But-”

“Just own up to it,” he added, feeling a spiteful twist rise in his words. “So you were a bit of a whore, happens to the best of us.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, you giant git,” she spat out, balling her fists up in front of her eyes. “It was  _yo-_ ”

As the word nearly slipped out, her eyes went as wide as saucers, hand clapping over her mouth in horror.  

His heart stopped in his chest.

“Uh,” she immediately sputtered, “I mean, uh, not… I…”

“What do you mean, it- what the fuck do you mean?”

All of the colour had drained from her face. “I didn’t-”

Oh fuck. "Didn't what?" 

She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Nothing, okay? It's nothing" 

It was such a blatantly obvious lie that it was almost painful to watch. “Evie.”

She scrunched her eyes shut, looking pained. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to tell you. Oh my God. Oh, my God.”

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. _Holy fuck_. So he hadn’t been crazy that morning, when he wondered. That morning when he- wait, no, hang on. “But that can’t be. He was born too late. I know, I checked his passport.”

That momentarily distracted her. “You checked? Why?”

“Well, I mean… Look at him,” Jacob said, waving his hand in the vague direction of the living room, panic still crawling higher and higher up his throat. “He looks just fucking like me, of course I wondered.”

She sighed and a silence fell over the kitchen as she looked at her hands, twisting her fingers together over and over. Tinny cheerful music from some cartoon was issuing from the other room, giving the whole conversation a bit of a surreal quality. “I bribed a clerk at the registry office,” she finally said quietly. “Twelve thousand rupees to change the date from May to August.”

He was getting more certain that he was going to throw up. “Why?”

“Because I knew that if something happened to me, he would’ve gone to Mother and Father. And I thought it would be… Easier, if they never had to wonder. I worried that they’d treat him differently if they suspected.”

For a moment, his brain latched onto the fact that he wouldn’t even have been involved Tommy’s care if Evie had fucking _died_ , but it couldn’t linger there. He still had too many questions. “But when did you know?”

“A month after I arrived at Delhi,” she admitted. She looked more ashamed than he thought he had ever seen her, morally-upright Evie forced to confess to wrongdoing.

Swallowing, he tried to gather his thoughts. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“You’d already made it clear that you didn’t want to come with me,” she said, almost a whisper. “I didn’t want to coerce you, I didn’t think it was fair. And… I was hurt. And scared,” she added, folding a bit in on herself.

Jacob had always been firmly in the ‘sticks and stones hurt way more than words, what the hell are you talking about’ camp; now, though, he was starting to reconsider. Each new bit of information felt like he was being sliced into with sharp knives, and he would know, having actually endured that in the past. “I have to- I’m sorry, I… I have to… Go, somewhere,” he mumbled, pushing past her out of the kitchen. He grabbed his wallet and keys and shoved them in his pockets. “I gotta… I’ll see you.”

She called after him but he ignored her, fleeing the flat as quickly as he could.

\---

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Someone was sliding the glass away from Jacob’s hand, even though he hadn’t finished yet. He tried to protest, but his head felt so heavy. His whole body felt heavy.

“I’m cutting you off- trust me, mate, you’ll thank me in the morning. Can I call you a taxi?”

A taxi. So he could go back to… The flat, fuck. Should he go somewhere else? Roth’s? No, Evie wouldn’t like that. Evie…

He blearily lifted his head. A friendly looking face was peering at him with some concern from behind the bar, holding a phone.

“I…” Jacob started. “I found out that I’m a dad today.”

The bartender blinked a little. “Uh… Congratulations?”

“My son is four.”

“Oh. So… Not congratulations. Shit, man, I’m sorry”

“No, it…” It was good news? It was good news. Even drunk and horrified, Jacob was still fairly sure that it was good news. “It’s fine, he’s a good kid.”

“Right,” the bartender said. “So, taxi?”

“Yeah, it… Yeah. Taxi. Please. Ta.”

He didn’t throw up on the ride back, which was encouraging. By the time he made it to the door of the flat, he’d sobered up a bit, so he squared his shoulders and tried to walk in with a firm step.

Evie had waited up for him. Of course she had.

Wrapped in a robe, with her hair down and wet, she was sitting at the table and chewing nervously at her lip. Beyond, he could see Tommy asleep on the couch like a star fish, taking up as much space as his small body possibly could.

Just like Jacob did when he slept.

Oh Jesus.

“Hey,” she said quietly, pulling her robe tighter around her body. “You okay?”

A bit more unsteadily than he would’ve liked, he walked to her and pulled up a chair. She looked so worried, and she didn’t need to be worried. He didn’t like it when she worried. He’d never liked it when she worried, even when he was mad at her because she kept trying to tell him where he could and couldn’t work. What he could and couldn’t do.

Which was why… Fuck, that had definitely not been a hill worth dying on.

Tipping forward, he rested his forehead against her shoulder. Strawberries and soap, like always. When her hand came up to stroke his hair, he couldn’t help it- before he knew what he was doing, he was crying, heaving embarrassing sobs of an entire week’s worth of pent up emotion. Jesus, Father was dead and _he_ was a father. His whole world, flipped upside down. “I’m sorry,” he managed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have been there, I'm sorry.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I should never have kept it from you. I was in the wrong.”

He managed to sort of get the tears under control. “You shouldn’t have,” he agreed, hiccoughing with his face still pressed against her robe. “Still so pissed at you for not telling me.”

“I know,” she said, giving him a pat. “I know.”

"Gonna be pissed for a while." 

"I know."

“Don’t… ever do that again.”

He could hear her smile. “Pretty sure the situation will never arise, so we’re good on that count.”

Pulling himself up, he leaned in to try and give her a sloppy kiss before he remembered the potential for an audience. He glanced over nervously to Tommy, but he still looked like he was passed out.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, following his thoughts. With the slightest of smiles, she put her hands to his cheeks and pulled him closer. “He sleeps like a log. Like someone else I know.”

Kissing her felt like happiness. It felt like coming home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY’RE MAKING UP, AT LAST. Y'all know what that means is coming up -eyebrow wiggle- 
> 
> The encouraging comments that you guys wrote after the last chapter meant more to me than I could possibly express. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I was feeling a bit uncertain about this fic and it was a relief to hear such nice things. You all spoil me. 
> 
> Also, 12,000 rupees is about 140 pounds or 170 US dollars. Bureaucratic corruption is a widely documented problem in India, so Evie's bribe is not totally far from the norm, even if her request is.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commenter Ellen made the highly accurate and hilarious observation that [**this**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/153732137820/dorianelise-henry-taught-him-well-o-shit-son) is basically the equivalent of what Jacob went through emotionally in the last chapter. LOL. 
> 
> Easy does i- BUH!

“No, Monkey- no, no, don’t touch that, it’s not a toy, don’t- _Thomas Frye_ , you put that _down this instant_ -”

Evie lurched just in time to catch the can of paint as it tipped off the table. When she looked up, she could see Thomas’s wide eyes peering at her from where he had been trying to prise the lid off. He always knew he was in trouble when she pulled out his full name.

Setting the paint can down, Evie took a long and very deep breath and closed her eyes. “Remember how we packed some toys? They’re in your backpack, right? Why don’t you go to the sitting room and set up your trains?”

Still a bit wide-eyed and clearly aware that he had gotten off easy, Thomas scurried away.

Mother chuckled from across the room. “Jacob was just the same. Thank God you were at least a little better behaved.”

Sighing, Evie went back to her paint brush, resuming her work. They were almost finished with the front hallway; all of the major renovations would be done by workmen, but Mother had suggested that it might be more affordable if they did some of the simpler things themselves.

Evie smeared the paint around, covering the dull green that used to be there. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right,” Mother said quietly. “I lost him a long time ago, really. This was difficult but… At least he wasn’t in pain for too long.”

It was something that she’d never had a chance to ask. She had hardly been aware that things were going badly before Mother left, and once she was gone, well- it wasn't like they could have a heart-to-heart about her reasons. And then Evie had left herself. “What... happened? When you left?”

Mother twisted her mouth a little. “His job was everything- it came before me, came before you two. I couldn’t take it, in the end.”

Evie’s stomach sank a little. Maybe she and Mother had more in common than she'd realized.

\---

When she and Thomas got back to the flat, the sound of the television was audible from the front door. Jacob had been nowhere to be found when they left in the morning; clearly, he’d had another late-night shift.

“Hey,” she called out, shepherding Thomas through to the living room.

Jacob vaguely lifted a hand in response, and she saw the bandage wrapped tightly around his wrist.

Sliding her bag off, she frowned at it. “What happened?”

“Oh,” he said, immediately putting his hand down. “Nothing.”

“Jacob.”

“Nothing, really.” He glanced at Thomas. “Work stuff.”

She waited until supper was over and Thomas was passed out on the couch to needle Jacob about the truth, cornering him in the kitchen. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he muttered, making his night-time cup of tea. “I just sprained it a bit, that’s all.”

Leaning forward, she gently wrapped her fingers around the wrist. He immediately tensed and hissed in pain, trying to yank his hand away. “Not a big deal,” she repeated flatly.

“It… Okay,” he relented. “I was in a fight, it went bad. It happens. I'll be fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fight- like breaking up customers fighting, or like, in-the-ring-fighting?”

He sighed. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!”

“Fine. In-the-ring fighting.”

She followed him as they went to the kitchen table, taking a seat at his side. “So, what happened?”

Leaning back in his chair, he propped his feet on the table and looked at the ceiling. “It was a big guy I hadn’t ever faced before, and I let my guard down for a second. I got a week off work, if it makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t. “Who sets the fights?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “… Roth.”

Evie didn’t believe for a moment that this wasn’t some kind of punishment for what had happened the other night. Even though it had been almost a week, it seemed perfectly in character for Roth to wait until everyone thought he had forgotten to strike. “That bastard-”

“Look,” Jacob said, placatingly. “This is good, okay? It's good that I'm home. I can watch Tommy. I know he’s been making you tear your hair out back at the house.”

This, at least, was true. It would nice to not constantly be worrying that he would take his own eye out with a hammer. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

Jacob snorted. “Don’t mind a chance to get to know my son? Of course I don’t mind.” There was a slight trace of bitterness in his voice, anger that she knew he was still struggling with. 

An awkward silence settled over the room. With her away during the day and him usually working nights, they hadn’t really ever found a chance to talk about that particular revelation. After the kiss, he had staggered off to bed, and that had basically been the end of the discussion.

She was about to broach the subject when he interrupted her. “Why isn’t he more… I dunno, sick?”

She squinted at him. “What?”

“I thought that the kids would always be… You know.” He shrugged a little. “Off. If siblings did...” he waved his hand vaguely, but she followed his meaning.

Rubbing her hands together, she bit her lip. “We were very, very lucky.”

“Did you consider… Ending it?”

She closed her eyes, thinking back to the months spent scouring the books on genetic testing for abnormalities, building on the fact that she had studied something incredibly close to it. To borrowing equipment from colleagues, requesting a sample of amniocenteses fluid, to the weeks spent pouring over the data she found to try and juggle the odds. “Yes. But I did my best to make sure that he wouldn’t be sick.” She swallowed. “It seemed cruel to bring a sick child into the world.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“No.” Even after all of the tests, she had given birth drowning in fear that something would go wrong. That it was impossible to do something so inherently corrupted and produce something _good_ from it. But he had come into the world squalling and healthy anyway, and no matter how much she worried over him with eagle-eyes, nothing seemed to have come of it yet. “So I kept him.”

Moving his sprained wrist gingerly, he reached out and twined his fingers with her own. “I’m glad.”

She was glad too.

\---

Waking up the next morning, she realized that her wriggly companion was missing. It was nice to wake up without a small foot in her ribs, but awfully unusual for him to get up without jostling her awake in the process.

Blinking, she sat up slowly, realizing that she could hear a gentle _thwack, thwack,_ coming from Jacob’s bedroom. She knew that sound. It was… Someone hitting a boxing bag? But it was far too soft to be Jacob.

When she stood and went to the door, she found Jacob sitting on his bed with his elbows on his knees, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Slowly moving her gaze, she saw that Thomas was wearing a massively-too-big helmet and boxing gloves, raising his arms above his head and bringing them down against the bag as hard as he could. As she watched he suddenly darted away from the bag only to turn around and sprint towards it, jumping with all his strength. It had rather more of an impact on Thomas than it did on the bag, the fabric just creaking slightly on its chain while the boy bounced backwards and landed on his bum with a _whump_.

The helmet jostled enough that he apparently saw her. “Mummy!” he said, raising his hands. The gloves spun around a bit, precariously balanced on his arms. “I’m boxing!”

She tried to look as serious as she could, putting a hand in front of her mouth to hide her smile. “So you are. You look very fierce.”

With a proud yell, he jumped to his feet and charged at the bag again. She glanced over at Jacob to find that he had raised an eyebrow at her, as if waiting for her assessment of the situation.

Evie nodded, finally closing her eyes and breaking into silent giggles, and he just grinned even wider.

\---

Mother was quiet as they worked. Unusually so, enough to make Evie a bit nervous. When they took a break for lunch, pausing to eat some packed sandwiches, Mother finally took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“Evie,” she started, lifting her chin.

Evie froze and braced herself. _Is Thomas Jacob’s? Are you sleeping with Jacob again? Do I have to call child services?_

“Have you considered staying in England?”

“Uh…” That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “I don’t… Know? I mean, probably not? I still have the job back in Delhi. I’m on sabbatical this semester so they haven’t missed me yet, but…”

“Right.” Mother looked sad, and she fiddled with her sandwich for a moment. “I would really like to get to know Thomas better. I know that… I know that things haven’t been good between us. That lots went wrong, in so many ways. But I’d like to be a better Grandmother than I was a Mother.”

Evie bit her lip. “Mother-”

“Stop,” Mother said, raising a hand. “I don’t want to talk about… Well, you know what I don’t want to talk about. But you both seem to have moved on, and I want to get to know my grandson. You can make your own decision, but I wanted you to know.” Standing, she dusted off her trousers. “I’m going to go back to painting. You don’t have to do anything, but please think about it.”

Nodding, Evie waited until Mother had left the room to put her face in her hands and sigh.  

\---

When she got back to the house, everything was very quiet. Almost too quiet.

As she walked through the living room, she could see Jacob slumped against the couch; when she circled around, she found Thomas curled in the crook of his arm, sleeping peacefully.

There was something vaguely like deja-vu dancing around the corners of her mind as she stood there, looking at them both. She suddenly realized that it was because they were both positioned exactly the same way; heads tilted a little to the left, mouths a bit open, a lock of hair brushing over their foreheads as they half-snored.

Hesitating for a second, she pulled out her mobile and snapped a picture. This, at least, she could save for posterity.

She leaned down and poked Jacob’s cheek a few times. Jacob blearily opened his eyes and shifted, looking at her and then to Thomas. “Oh- oh. Hey.” He yawned. “We ate and everything. Just had a big day, that’s all.”

“I’m sure,” Evie said, smiling a little. As Jacob shifted, she lifted Thomas into her arms easily, carrying him to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Mummy,” Thomas said, rubbing his eyes as she helped him into his PJs. “Can we stay with Uncle Jake for a- for a longest time? Forever?”

Her heart clenched. “I don’t think so, Monkey. We have to go home, remember?”

“I don’t wanna go home,” he mumbled. “I wanna stay here with Grandma and Uncle Jake.”

“Yes, well,” she scooped him back up, smoothing his hair down as he wrapped his arms around her neck. “Let’s just see, okay?”

Putting him down in the bed and tucking the covers under his chin, she turned the lights down and walked back to the kitchen.

Jacob was waiting with a mug of tea, holding one out to her. “He’s a sweet kid.”

“Yes,” she said, blowing on the cup and watching the steam curl off the liquid. “He is.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I at the usual point where I have to thank UngarnMoc again for all of her patient listening and feedback? Oh, what the hell, it can't hurt. ILU BABE 
> 
> Credit for the idea of the boxing scene comes from Ellen. She suggested it and I nearly died from The Cute.  
>   
> [ **AXEMAN MADE A PLAYLIST FOR ARE YOU MINE AND IT'S PERFECT EVERYONE GO LOOK RIGHT NOW**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/153867880385/saintvire-http8trackscomsaintvirerestless)
> 
> Also. Now seems like a good time to have a quick discussion about genetics. 
> 
> Without getting too complex, the basic fact is that we get 50% of our genetic material from each of our parents. Siblings, therefore, share 50% of that material between each other (unless they are identical twins, in which case they share 100%). Incest does, in fact, contribute to a significantly higher risk of genetic abnormalities and illnesses. This is because of recessive genes: traits that people are holding but not expressing. Say, for example, that you have one recessive gene for congenital blindness. If you reproduce with someone who has no such recessive gene for that trait, you end up with a child who has a recessive-dominant pair and the dominant side (no blindness) wins. If you reproduce with someone who ALSO has a recessive gene in that pair, you play a lottery; if the child ends up with a recessive-recessive pair, they are born blind. (This is an oversimplified explanation. But for the sake of a trash fic, it'll do.) It's a worry because two people who don't look like they have a condition can both be carriers. If they are related, it becomes more likely that they share recessive genes. 
> 
> My basic idea is that Evie did a battery of tests looking to see what her own recessive genes were, and then tested for the most common genetic abnormalities during pregnancy. This is a genuine service that exists, although it is usually directed at very small communities (certain religious groups that forbid marrying outsiders, for example) because this or that genetic abnormality can become more and more common over time. 
> 
> Anyway, the point is, it can truly happen that a normal child will come from family members reproducing. However. It's highly risky, and with each generation that it continues, the risk of deformities becomes higher and higher. This is why- evolutionary speaking- it's a spectacularly bad idea. 
> 
> Now ALSO seems like a good time to point out that this is fiction. It's basically a kink fic, for people who are into this sort of thing. In the real world, incest very _very_ rarely occurs without significant accompanying abuse of power, to the great detriment of the victim. The purpose of this is not to normalize that behaviour. It's just a garbage piece of fun for those of us who can't help but ship these two fictional characters. K? K. 
> 
> Tl;dr: Thomas being healthy is technically possible (if unlikely).  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

“Oi! Frye!”

Jacob was dozing against the counter, head propped in his hands. Customers were gradually trickling back out onto the street and it meant that he could relax a little, the workday almost over. He should've slept in longer to stop this from happening, but Tommy had wanted to go to the park and “only Uncle Jake knows how to push the swings properly, please please _please_ uncle Jake???”. And how could he say no to that?

Bleary eyed, he turned to the source of the sound. "Yeah?" 

One of the other bartenders vaguely gestured up to the first floor. “Boss wants you. In his office.”

No doubt he did, Jacob thought a little grimly, thinking of how the phrase could mean a few things.

Trudging up the stairs, he looked at his mobile. 2:30am. Almost home time.

When he walked into the room, Roth was standing at the window. The office looked the same as it always did, dark wood and ornate flourishes matching Roth’s flair for the dramatic. Beyond, in the dark, the lights of London twinkled in the distance.

Jacob decided to leave the door open. “You asked for me?”

“My dear,” Roth said, without turning around. “I'm starting to think that you've been avoiding me.”

It was a little bit more complicated than that. “Just been busy.”

Turning, Roth walked to the other side of the desk and put a hand to Jacob’s cheek, running his thumb along the line of his scar. “Even if I can't go to you, there's no reason not to visit my flat.” He leaned in a little closer. “Or there's always right here.” They’d certainly done that often enough before, clothes half off with Jacob bent over the desk.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t tempted. Jacob wasn’t exactly used to celibacy, and he found that he wasn’t enjoying it much. Roth had always been good for letting off steam, and distracting Jacob from his problems had basically been the foundation of their relationship.

But when he imagined himself with someone nowadays, it wasn’t  Roth. “Another time, maybe.” Shrugging off Roth’s hand, he turned in brisk steps back towards the doorway. Then he could go down the steps, out the building, and to home, where he could take a quick moment to leave a peck on two soft foreheads before he went to bed.

“I'll look forward to it,” Roth called out, but the way he said it made it almost sound like a threat.

\---

Jacob woke up to the sound of Tommy’s train set rattling around in the next room. When he finally made it to the kitchen, he found Evie sitting at the table and pouring over mountains of paperwork, worrying a pen between her teeth. She had glasses on, which was something that he didn’t remember from before. It was… Cute.

Settling down with his tea and toast, he squinted at the spreadsheets. “What’s this?”

“Some of my research,” she muttered, quickly glancing at Tommy as one of his trains careened off the track and he whooped with joy. “Figured I should spend some time on it if I’m going to be here for a bit longer.”

His heart leapt a little at the implication that she wouldn’t be leaving straightway. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, as casually as possible, watching Tommy reassemble the track. “I think he’d enjoy the transport museum.”

“Mm, probably.” She shifted some more papers. “I’ll look into it.”

“I was actually thinking we could go today.”

Evie looked up in surprise. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

“I was thinking…” he fiddled with his cup. “I was thinking we could all go together.”

Blinking at him slowly, she took off her glasses. For a moment he was sure that she was going to turn him down. Instead, she smiled and folded her binder shut. “That sounds lovely.”

\---

The transport museum was packed with other families, which made them oddly appear like they belonged. After all, here among strangers, they could have been like any other couple with a young child. Tommy firmly grabbed one hand from each of them, insisting every four or five steps that they swing him back and forth, squealing with laughter when they obliged. 

Around the eighth time, Evie clucked at him. “You shouldn’t try Uncle Jacob’s patience, Monkey.”

“I don’t mind,” Jacob said immediately, giving Tommy’s hand a quick squeeze.

It was true, he realized, as they paid for their tickets and walked through. If anything, the thought of either of them making a big effort to _not_ inconvenience him made him more uncomfortable.

His suspicion about Tommy’s enjoyment had been right. The big trains made Tommy’s eyes go wide as saucers, mouth popping open in excitement. He was immediately off at a sprint, running up and down the length of them, occasionally stopping to point and shout something back at Evie. They couldn’t understand him at this distance, of course, but Evie nodded and smiled back all the same.

Some of the trains could be toured inside, so they wandered through. They gradually worked their way backwards chronologically until they were in the oldest part of the museum, covering Victorian transport and the development of the Tube. The passenger train on display was an ornate and decorated thing, complete with a fancy dining car and private sleeping car.

Evie had one hand on Tommy’s collar through the whole train to stop him from destroying any of the expensive looking knick-knacks perched on shelves. “It almost looks like you could live in one of these.”

“Only for one, though,” Jacob said, hands in his pockets as he squinted at the mounted stag head. “Just the one bed.”

"I would let you sleep on the couch,” she offered.

He snorted and poked the stiff fabric. "Really? How generous of you." 

The omnibuses were next, and Tommy took great pleasure in sitting where the driver would have, waving at them both as they watched him from the ground.

When Evie waved back at him, Jacob found himself watching her, struck by the simple prettiness of her smile in profile. And how similar it was to Tommy’s.

Jacob had enjoyed his week with the boy when he was off work. They had fallen into a routine: in the morning, they would make marmalade toast, and then they would go to the park. Jacob would read the paper on the bench and Tommy would dutifully pet every dog in the neighbourhood. Then it was back for lunch, and an afternoon spent with Tommy chattering happily about whatever he happened to be doing. Usually, Tommy would insist on a bit of time wearing the boxing gloves again and whaling his little arms against the bag in Jacob's room. He seemed to especially enjoy it if Jacob stood to the side and barked encouragement and advice like he was a coach, cheering every time Tommy bested another imaginary opponent. Evie would come back in the evenings and they’d all have supper together. It was a strange mimicry of domesticity.

He’d been more disappointed than he expected when it was time to go back to work. Even there, he would occasionally catch himself daydreaming about things like camping trips with the three of them or driving out to Wales to see the seaside.

Then, of course, he’d remember that they were going back to India.

And the hollow ache in his chest would grow a little bit more.

“Jacob?” Evie’s voice pulled him back to the present, where she was looking at him with a frown. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, quickly pulling out his mobile to snap a picture of Tommy as he awkwardly tried to clamber down from the perch, little bum up in the air. “I’m fine. Let’s go get some tea before we leave.”

\---

Back at the flat, supper was finished and Tommy was tucked into bed when Jacob found Evie brushing her teeth in the bathroom.

“Thank you for today,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder before she rinsed and set her toothbrush back in her cup. In a strange way, it made Jacob’s heart warm every time he saw it there, some evidence of a semi-permanent arrangement. "It was sweet." 

“I had fun." 

She turned to face him and fidgeted a bit with hem of her shirt. “Thomas really likes having you nearby. He hasn’t… Had a lot of options for male role models.”

It was strange to think of himself as a role model for anything. “I thought there was- whatever his name was. Jay?”

“Oh, that.” She flapped her hand dismissively. “He came over a few times a week and he was lovely, sure, but it’s not the same as… This.” She said the next words almost as if she was talking more to herself. “Thomas likes being here.”

Slowly, he reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb along her palm. “And… You? Do you like being here?”

Evie took so long to answer that his heart was in his throat, worried that he’d somehow overstepped. “I do,” she finally said, almost a whisper.

Emboldened, he stepped closer and put his other hand to her cheek. “I like having you here.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and they breathed together, a moment of peace that eased the ache in his chest. It was easy to slip his hand from her fingers and slide it to the small of her back instead, resting in the simple intimacy of it. She smelled so good and he was honestly happy to just be able to do this, to have her near and warm and willing to let him hold her.

Not that he planned to complain when she tipped her face up and kissed him.

If the first kiss had been angry and the second had been frantic, this was slow and sweet, gentle and hesitant. The others had happened with the certainty that they were on limited time. But this… This felt more like a kiss that promised more for later, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bubble of hope blossom in his chest. Perhaps it was foolish to hope. But he was the one who had pushed her away to begin with, and perhaps she could be persuaded to come back. 

She drew his attention back with a little nip at his lower lip. God, she was so soft. With a quick movement, he helped her perch on the edge of the bathroom counter and he was able to lean in for a deeper kiss, moaning a little as she wrapped her legs around him. Their chests pressed together and he realized with a jolt that she wasn’t wearing a bra, only two thin layers of fabric separating them from touching the way that he'd been dreaming about for weeks. If only, if only she would stay. Jacob's brain sang in joy as she didn’t stop him when he inched a hand under her shirt, cautiously sliding his fingers along the skin of her back and stomach, caressing it and trying to remind himself that this was all real.

Slow was fine, he reasoned. Slow was probably best. But she slipped her tongue into his mouth and grabbed his wrist to nudge it upwards along her front, and he- well, he’d never been one to turn down an implied invitation. He inched up the skin of her front until he met the swell of her breast, groaning as she broke away from the kiss to arch into his hand and let out a little gasp when he tightened his fingers on the taut peak. She’d always made him feel so _drunk_ , the first and worst craving that he’d ever had, and he was so goddamned hard in his boxers already-  

“Mummmmmyyyyyy!” The call broke through the flat. “I want some water!”

Evie flinched away and gave him a wide-eyed look. Jacob immediately withdrew against all of his screaming instincts, pulling his hands away and raising them as if in surrender. The colour was high in her cheeks and her lips were a little swollen from the kiss, and damn if she didn't look beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, she grimaced. “I’ll be there in a second, Monkey," she called back. "Just give me a moment.”

Slipping back to her feet, she rearranged her clothes and smoothed down her hair. Then, with a slow peck to his cheek, she left the room and left him contemplating a long cold shower so that he’d be able to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy Frye: master cockblock.
> 
> [ **WE HAVE ANOTHER PLAYLIST FROM AXEMAN THIS IS NOT A DRILL.**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/154030969615/saintvire) This one for this fic! SO PUMPED. 
> 
> I tend to really hesitate about linking to modern Frye AU art here, for the obvious reason that most artists would be horrified to be associated with my work. (And you know, fair enough). BUT! I've found one artist that draws the twins in a way that almost 100% aligns with how I think about them for these modern AUs, and they ship Fryecest so I can link it without concern, yaaay!
> 
>  [ **Adorable Fryes in the Are You Mine? era.**](http://propercybertron.lofter.com/post/1ce1bbf0_8df984c)
> 
> [ **And again for I Want Some More.**](http://propercybertron.lofter.com/post/1ce1bbf0_8d93935)
> 
> Lastly: I was originally pretty set on Thomas being the only Frye baby, but I've been taken aback by the amount of demand for Thomas getting a little brother or sister. So... I may be open to reconsidering my stance...


	8. Chapter 8

Sleep was elusive.

Evie stood at the window, looking out over the lights. Thomas was still sound asleep, making little snuffling noises from the couch.

Decisions, decisions. Thomas was happy here. Mother wanted her here, and parental presence in her life for the first time in a decade was proving strangely grounding. She was still grieving, and thoughts of Father were easier to deal with when she wasn't alone. Being back where so much had gone to pieces was not as upsetting as she had always feared, and there was always the comfort of speaking her mother tongue wherever she went.

And then, of course, there was Jacob.

Infuriating, alluring Jacob.

She pulled out her mobile and checked the time. 7AM- still quite early. But Mother had been an early riser for as long as Evie could remember.

Overcoming the last moment of hesitation, she dialled the number.

“Mother? Yes, hi, remember how you said you wanted to get to know Thomas better? I was wondering if you would like to take him for a sleepover tonight…”

\---

After an _extremely_ excited Tommy was bustled away with his backpack and stuffed horse, Evie settled down to try and do some work.

It was well past noon by the time Jacob staggered out of his room, and it took until halfway through his coffee for him to notice that something was off.

“Hang on…” He squinted around the room, running a hand through his haphazard bed head. “It's way too quiet. Where's Tommy?”

“I sent him to Mother’s,” Evie said, keeping her gaze on her work and her tone determinedly casual. “She wanted more chances to see him.”

“Right,” Jacob said slowly. He fiddled with the rim of his cup. “So… We’re alone for a bit?”

“Yes,” she agreed, making a few more annotations. She still couldn't look at him, which was ridiculous. For goodness’ sake, she'd just gone out of her way to get them some privacy because she wanted his hands on her, but now in the moment, she was gripped by the sheer embarrassment of it.

“Huh,” he said. After a long moment, he dragged his chair around so that he was sitting next to her, close enough to reach but not close enough to crowd. “Am I supposed to read something into this?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, yes, yes.

Damn the embarrassment.

She snapped her pen down and grabbed at the front of his shirt, yanking him close for a kiss.

He tasted like coffee, and his enthusiasm was gratifying. Immediately gripping both sides of her face, he ran his tongue along her lower lip, pressing their faces so close together that her glasses squished a little awkwardly between them, lifting off one of her ears.

Sliding his hands to her armpits, he pulled her out of the chair as she tossed her glasses on the table. “Fuck yes,” he moaned, backing her up until she was pressed against the wall, his hands already roving under her shirt. “ _Fuck_ yes.”

Her heart was going to burst out of her chest. Her skin was too hot all over, the bed too far away. She tugged his shirt off of him, eagerly tracing his skin and the little trail of hair down his front.

Leaning against him, they commenced an awkward sort of waltz towards his room, unwilling to let go long enough to walk freely. Her blouse tore a little as he pulled at it, too eager to carefully work through the buttons. She couldn't bring herself to care. 

Two bumps into the wall and one time being accidentally shoved up against the doorframe later, she was finally able to push him backwards onto the covers and slide down his front onto her knees.

He hissed into the air as she worked his belt open, hands shaking with anticipation. It had been so long, too long, and she could already feel the dampness between her legs. As she tugged the trousers and boxers down, though, she was arrested by the sight of ink on his skin that she had never seen before.

“What…” she said slowly, running her fingers along the curve of his hipbone. Two black lines twined around and around each other, connected and coalescing into a DNA double helix.

When she looked up at him, she was shocked to find that he had turned a little pink. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “You always had that big poster over our bed with the labelled parts, and I guess it kind of reminded me of you- and you know, it's what you study, and it's something we share…” He looked up at the ceiling. “Wanted something permanent to remind me of you.”

There was suddenly a rather painful lump in her throat.

Blinking rapidly, she pressed a kiss to the tattoo, tasting clean skin. His hand fisted in her hair as she tilted her head and ran her tongue along the pattern, licking a stripe through this brand of her on his body.

“Shit,” Jacob whispered, losing his shyness and bucking his hips up as she stripped the boxers away, avoiding his erection to feather kisses on his hips instead, along the crease of his thigh, around the edges of the dark hair that nestled there.

The smell of his arousal triggered some memories locked away in her mind, and she instantly felt another rush of heat to her hips.

By the time she finally wrapped her lips around his cock, tracing the thick vein on the underside with her tongue, he was shaking.

“Evie,” he groaned, hips lifting off the bed as she hollowed her cheeks and tried to push herself down as far as she could. “Christ, it's been torture being around you, I've wanted to shove you up against the wall and fuck you for weeks-”

She pulled away with a _pop_. “You already did once, remember?”

His eyes were dark when he looked down at her. “Once was not nearly enough.”

With a grin, she hummed happily as she took him back in her mouth, smirking when he went tense and gasped. Oh, she'd missed this, right down to the slick of spit starting to slip down her chin.

She could feel his hands trembling as he reached down to unclasp her bra. No sooner had he gotten it loose than he yanked her head away and dragged her up to the bed on stumbling legs. This bossiness- she'd missed that too, and almost forgotten how much she'd missed it. Pinning her down, he let his tongue swirl around a nipple, nipping and flicking until she was writhing underneath him.

Evie felt a brief flicker of anxiety over the changes in her body as his hands roved over her torso. Her stomach was softer now, the extra stretch of skin a testament to her pregnancy. If he noticed, though, he didn't say anything, hungrily trying to lick across every inch of her breasts instead.

The anticipation shot through her spine and wiped her mind white when she felt his fingers begin to fumble at the button of her jeans.

“I'm sorry,” he said, hooking his thumbs on the waistband and jerking it down past her knees in quick movements so she could kick them off and away. The knickers followed in quick order, practically ripped off her. “I'm sorry, I promise I'll eat you out until you scream later, but I've got to fucking be inside you-”

“Now,” she demanded, spreading her knees open and arching against him. “ _Now_.”

He scrambled over her and quickly scissored his fingers into her a few times, the slick sound of her arousal confirming the readiness that she already was keenly aware of. Shifting, he slid his cock along her folds, hesitating as they made tentative contact. “Should I get a condom-”

“IUD,” she groaned, “and I'm clean and I hope to God you are too.”

Nodding with a chuckle, Jacob pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Get checked regularly. Ready?”

The noise that she let out was embarrassingly close to a whine. “You're joking, right?”

The ball of arousal in her groin only grew tighter as he pushed into her, slick and tight to the hilt. In all the years there had never been anyone who felt quite so good- not that she'd exactly had a string of conquests, what with Thomas. It was almost a regret but it was wiped entirely clean when he placed his thumbs against her hip bones, grinding into her until she was a shuddering mess.

He groaned and began to rock his hips properly, skin slapping with each penetrating thrust. “Fuck, Evie, you feel good, so good that it's almost fucking unfair-”

She chuckled at that, but broke off when he picked up the pace, thudding against her so hard that the bed began to rock into the wall. “Please,” she said, breathless, feet arching as she tried to lift her hips to meet him. “Oh _please_ , oh God, Jacob-”

His hands traced down her front and she discovered with dizzying excitement that he still remembered exactly how to make her come apart. With each angled stroke, he swirled his fingers, watching her expression with a burning intensity that made her want to cover her face.

When she tried, though, he immediately snarled. “No, I want to see.”

“But-” Evie hiccoughed weakly.

“Hands down,” he insisted, intensifying the stroking motion. “I want to see your face when you come.”

“That's a little cocky,” she said, forcing her palms away and upwards, through the bars to brace herself against the wall. “Maybe I won't.”

He snorted. “As if.” With an insufferable smirk, Jacob lowered his nose down to her face until he hovered only an inch away. “I can feel your cunt tightening around me, you can't lie to me. You're so close that you can barely breathe.”

“I-” she stuttered, feeling the impending rush lurch ever closer.

“I know exactly how to make your body sing,” he whispered, suddenly dipping his hips so that he stroked right against that achingly tender spot.

Oh, oh _God_. She dissolved, her nails scraping against the wallpaper as all of her muscles tensed, the orgasm rippling through her with pulsing and punishing intensity. His hand clapped over her mouth as she screamed bloody murder, nearly collapsing into a sob as the sound trailed off, her breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“Sorry,” Jacob purred over her, moving his hand away and not looking sorry at all. “Didn't want to alarm the entire building.”

She just moaned at him limply, aftershocks still making her shudder as each of his thrusts rocked her hips upwards.

Rearing back, he traced her thigh and raised it until it her calf was hooked on his shoulder, making her gasp at the change in angle. She scrabbled at the sheets as he sped up, because _oh_ , it felt good, stroking that ache that she could never quite reach on her own.

Twisting, Evie tried to push up on her elbows to meet him, but he easily shoved her back down.

“Just lie back,” he commanded, fingers drifting until they settled over her lips. “I'm gonna use your sweet cunt until I'm done, you understand?”

Good God, did he know how to push her buttons. Eyes drifting shut, Evie traced her tongue over the tips of his fingers until he pushed them into her mouth, tasting the salty tang of her own arousal.

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his grip becoming punishingly tight on her thigh. “Oh shit, I- fuck, Evie, look at me-”

She let her eyes drift open and gave a long and lazy suck as he twitched out his last few thrusts, eyes glued to her face, his gaze a perfect mix of desperation and longing as he spent inside her.

When he pulled out of her and flipped over with a gasp, she felt the slip of warm stickiness between her thighs.

For a minute they simply lay side by side, panting into the air. Their fingers eventually found each other, tangling together, gentle as Jacob rubbed circles into her palm with his thumb.

She felt contented down to her bones. It was a feeling that had evaded her for a long, long time.

Right as she was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep, he lifted his neck off the pillow and squinted at her groggily. “When did you say Tommy was coming back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Immediately reaching over her with a grunt, Jacob picked up his mobile from the bedside table and swiped his finger across the screen a few times. Putting the phone to his ear, he gave her a grin and held a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “Hello, yeah- is this Greg? Yeah. Hey. It's Jacob. I can't come into work today, I'm... Cough. Sick. Cough. Yeah. Tell Roth? Ok, thanks.”

Tossing his phone away, he rolled back over her in a fluid motion, swallowing her giggles with a deep kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suspect that no one caught this, but Thomas’s name was always a little hint about his parentage- it originates from the Aramaic for “twin”. 
> 
> I envisioned the tattoo as being like [**this.**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/154533426675) Ellen suggested the double helix- she is full of good ideas. 
> 
> Going through a bit of a rough patch IRL right now and writing this nonsense has always been my best distraction. Thanks for reading. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Jacob made good on his promise as soon as he was able.

Feathering kisses to her neck until she was squirming and giggling, he worked downwards until he was buried between her legs, licking up the taste of his own spend and her arousal. It was so different from being with a man- softer, mostly. And God, her noises were almost enough to get him hard again. It would've been if he was ten years younger.

Swirling and laving his tongue, he didn't let up until she was moaning continuously into the air. By then, he was ready again, which was just as well because she shoved him over and rode him until the scratch marks across his chest were a lattice of red lines on his skin.

Even when that was finished, he didn't want things to be over. There was years of time to make up for.

He refused to even let her leave bed to cook, insisting on ordering in. Their coupling was breathless, eager, mindless and consuming, and he wanted to feel every inch of her while he knew he had the chance. He wanted to burn it into his memory.

It was strange, really. He was a relatively young man with a monstrous appetite in every sense, and he'd had a fair share of partners over the years- Roth, after all, had a tendency to bring in third parties for some fun. But it wasn't the same as being able to map every freckle on her skin, knowing exactly what made her gasp. He was ready to be finished with sampling the buffet; instead he just wanted to gorge himself over and over on this one dish that he knew he liked.

No one else could hold a candle to it. Certainly not Roth, who was fun and distracting and adventurous but had all the substance of tooth-rotting spun sugar.

Eventually, exhausted, she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He tried to join her, but his evening work schedule meant that he was keyed up and wide awake even as the clock ticked on into the night.

Though that was rather nice in itself. Periodically, he could shift and press another kiss to her hair, listening to her soft breathing.

But even that could only occupy him for so long, and after a while he started to feel antsy. Leaving her sleeping, he tugged on some track pants and grabbed his pack of smokes from the bedside table, stepping out onto the balcony.

Standing in the cold air, he took a deep breath and replayed some of the highlights of the afternoon. There had certainly been enough of them. He tugged the waistband of his trousers down a bit and ran a finger along the DNA tattoo, remembering her reaction.

He'd got it intending for it to be a grand gesture, shortly after she left. It was a bit stupid, in hindsight, but he'd been bereft and not thinking terribly clearly. He'd even bought the ticket to India around the same time- ready to apologise, to make things right.

Then he'd gone out for a night with Roth. One drink led to another, and another, and another, until… Well, somewhere around the point when he'd put his hand down Roth’s pants, he'd realised that it would be difficult to face her again.

He debated getting the tattoo removed after that. And again and again, as each time he looked down and was reminded of her, the reminder growing more painful with each year.

Now he was glad he hadn't.

With a satisfied grin, he fiddled with the box before opening it and pulling out a slim cigarette. As he went to light it, he hesitated, lighter hovering in front of his face.

Evie hated his smoking. Always had, right from the day he took it up. It was one of the many small points of contention that had built into a chasm of anger before she left.

And it probably wasn't good for kids, either, was it? Health-wise _or_ setting-a good-example-wise.

Lowering the cigarette, he quietly slipped back into the flat and through his room, making his way to the kitchen. With a sigh, he dropped the whole pack in the bin and added nicotine patches to his grocery list.

\---

The privacy had to end, of course.

A vaguely sleepy looking Tommy was dropped off the following afternoon, delivered by Mother with a smile. Tommy immediately reached for Evie and wrapped his small arms around her neck, mumbling something about how he'd missed her.

Evie tucked her nose against his hair. “Was he good?”

“Very,” Mother said. “We had some difficulty falling asleep in a new bed, but other than that, everything was fine.”

“Excellent,” Evie said, wandering to the living room. “I'm glad it went well.”

Jacob noticed that Mother was hesitating in the doorway, looking keenly at Evie. "Have you made your choice? About what we discussed?”

“No.” She pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek as she set him down. “I was looking at flights to Delhi the other day, but everything is so expensive for the holidays.”

Mother’s nod was sad, but she smiled nonetheless as she waved goodbye and left the flat.

Jacob tried to keep his tone light, but he felt like he was crumbling. “You're booking flights back?”

“Thinking about it,” she said, watching Tommy as he scampered off to unpack his bag. “It's where our life is,” she added, face perfectly blank.

“Right,” he managed. “Uh… When?”

“We’ll at least be here for Christmas,” she said evenly.

“Right,” he said again, nodding an unnecessary number of times. “Right. Sounds good. Glad to hear it.”

He spent the rest of the day with a dull ache at the bottom of his chest. Trying to get away from the feeling, he went for a long walk through the streets of London, enjoying the lights and Christmas decorations, the festive atmosphere of people cramming in last minute shopping.

Rather than distracting him, though, he found that he spent the whole time staring rather morosely at young families. Playing at the park, sitting in cafes. Strolling through the street hand in hand.

He wanted that. He hadn't even known that he wanted it until it was in front of him, but now that it was- he did want it.

More than anything.

Later that night, as Evie was bent over her work at the table and in those adorable dorky glasses, he tried to broach the topic again. “Do you know when you'll be buying your flights home?”

Evie tightened her lips and kept her eyes firmly on her writing. “Not sure yet. Still debating the timing.”

“Listen,” he said, feeling a bit awkward. “How would you, um, feel if… Maybe I came with you?”

There was a long pause before she looked up, blinking at him in shock. “To India?”

Settling down in the seat next to her, he smoothed his hands down the front of his trousers. “I know the last time you asked, I was… Well, I was an ass about it, really. I put other stuff ahead of us as a pair and I shouldn't have.” If he kept moving his hands, maybe she wouldn't see that they were shaking slightly. “I know you've just had a few months here but they've made me pretty happy.”

Evie was still goggling, but she regained her composure enough to glance over at Tommy to ensure he was asleep. Seeing that he was, she pulled Jacob in with a gentle hand, giving him a long kiss. “I've been happy too,” she said. “I'll think about it, okay?”

It would have to do. Still feeling a bit down, Jacob trudged off to bed.

\---

Christmas morning dawned bright and early. Much earlier than Jacob was used to.

That was mostly due to the small child hopping up and down on his bed, making the whole mattress shake.

“Santa came, Santa came,” Tommy was chanting, windmilling his arms and bouncing with glee. “Uncle Jake, Santa came! Wake up! Santa came!”

“That's great,” Jacob muttered, groggily trying to open his eyes. “Why don't you go open your presents?”

“Mummy says I can't until you're up!”

Brilliant. He shifted his head to see Evie grinning at him broadly from the doorway, cup of tea in hand. “Welcome to living with a child,” she said, giving him a delicate little finger wave.

He eventually capitulated once Tommy did a particularly enthusiastic bounce and landed on Jacob’s stomach, leading to a frantic two minute retaliation tickle fight. By the time Tommy was ripping into his presents, Jacob was on the couch with a coffee in hand, awake enough to grin vaguely at the boy’s simple delight.

Evie was sitting cross-legged on the floor, head resting near his knee. “You got him too much, you know,” she murmured. “No child needs this much.” In the background, Tommy was rolling his new train set back and forth on the ground, shouting ‘CHOO-CHOO’ at the top of his lungs. The wooden floor was probably ruined. Oh well. He probably wouldn't be getting his damage deposit back anyway. 

Giving her hair a quick ruffle- mostly because he knew it irritated her- Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “I missed so many birthdays and christmases, I figure this is making up for it.”

For that, she gave him a smile that made all the shopping more than worth it.

Mother joined them later in the afternoon, bearing a turkey and mince pies, along with more presents. Jacob got a pair of warm socks- and damn, if it wasn't a sad sign of adulthood that he was remarkably pleased with them- and Evie got a pair of woollen mittens. She tugged them on immediately, rubbing the rough wool on Tommy’s cheeks until he squealed.

Tommy ripped open the shiny paper of his own gift to find a pile of soft and brown fabric. He frowned and shook it out, clearly confused, glancing up at the adults in the room.

It was Evie who realised what it was first, breaking out into laughter. “Oh Mother, really? Honestly? Come on, Monkey,” she said, pulling Tommy up. “I'll help you put it on.”

When Tommy came back from the bathroom, Jacob got the joke. With round ears and even a long tail, Tommy was now decked out in a onesie that doubled as a monkey costume.

He spent the rest of the night making “ook-ook” sounds and trying to swing from the furniture. He could only be convinced to be a little boy again in order to discover Christmas crackers, shrieking with joy every time one went off with a bang. The paper crown was immediately jammed on over top of his monkey ears, tearing a little in the process.

Jacob could hardly remember a time like this. Even back when he had lived at home, Christmases had been tense ever since he was a teenager and Mother and Father had started fighting. This was… _Easy_ , with Mother doling out potatoes while Evie poured mulled wine, Tommy running back and forth between the table and the tree to showcase each of his gifts one by one. He was particularly proud of the train set and spent some time telling Mother about the transport museum. It apparently had made quite the impression.

Far too many mince pies later, Mother pulled him aside as she was packing up to leave. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “for taking them in. I think Evie took your Father’s death the hardest of all of us, and it's good that she's not alone.”

Swallowing, Jacob nodded. The fleeting thought that Mother probably wouldn't be so grateful if she knew the whole truth flashed through his head, but he certainly wasn't going to go there.

“I know that…” Mother continued, hesitating. “I know that things haven't always been easy. Or healthy. But I know that you've both made your own lives since then and moved on from that phase, and I appreciate that you're trying.” She reached out and took Jacob’s hand, and he couldn't help but notice how brittle it felt, how there were now spots of age on her skin. “It means a lot to me to have my children back in my life.”

Silently, he pulled her into a hug. It was imperfect, yes. They were all imperfect. The dishonesty festered a little, an undercurrent below every pleasant interaction.

But it would have to do.

When he locked the door behind Mother and went back through the flat, he found Evie sitting at the table. As he approached, she put a finger to her lips, gesturing for him to be quiet and tossing her head towards the couch. Tommy was sound asleep, still in his onesie, snoring lightly.

“He wouldn't take it off,” she said, grinning and holding up a glass of wine for him. “I didn't have the heart to make him, little Monkey.”

“That's pretty cute,” Jacob agreed, settling down and accepting the drink. “Though I hope to God he lets me sleep in tomorrow, I can't take another morning of waking up like that.”

“Yes, well,” Evie said lightly, “that's parenting.”

He blinked at her as the words sank in, sending a warm glow rippling out from his chest. _Parenting_. Right. “I… I don't mind it.”

“I'm glad,” she murmured. “I have one more present for you, by the way.”

“Oh?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Something naughty, I hope?”

Even though she rolled her eyes, he could see her hiding a smile. “I've decided to stay. In England.”

It took him a solid few seconds to understand the enormity of it. When he did, his heart leapt. “Really?”

“I've been thinking about it for a while, but I didn't want to get your hopes up. Then today, looking at the flights again, I rather realised how much I was dreading leaving and how much I'd rather stay. Not _here_ , of course,” she added hurriedly, “we can't keep sleeping on your couch. But Mother wants me around, and I think it's good for Tommy to be around family. So we’ll find a place-”

“You can stay as long as you want,” he blurted out. “In fact, I kind of want you to stay here.”

She looked at him with the warmest smile that he could imagine. “I know,” she said, reaching out and giving his fingers a squeeze. “I'm trying to wrap my head around everything, so much is changing so fast. I...” she hesitated, dropping his hand. “I still think about Father every time I go to that house. I don't think I can live around there.”

“I get it.” He could understand it, it, even if he didn't share it. “It's okay. We can have a new beginning.”

“I would like that,” she said quietly. With a quirk of her lips, she raised her glass. “To new beginnings.”

The words were like music as he raised his glass to meet hers. “To new beginnings.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! This is my gift to you. (´∀｀*)
> 
> I also have a few other things from Santa's gift bag- like [**this gorgeous colour edit**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/154646594350/atta-girl-attaway-are-you-mine) of the artwork I shared last chapter (original art credit and links also in the hyperlink). And we have [**another playlist**](http://saintvire.tumblr.com/post/154363389041/quicker-than-lightning-whiter-than-bone-if-you) for this fic from Axeman! Babe is on a ROLL. I particularly love "She's Burns" by Foy Vance, excellent writing inspiration for this fic. 
> 
> If you felt like giving _me_ a gift, there's nothing I like better than hearing from people reading my stuff. Suggestions, concrit, story ideas and questions about my fics- I'll take it all! 
> 
> ٩( ᐛ )و


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... yeah. Hi. (●°u°●) 」This is just porn.

"So what'll it be?”

Evie leaned against the bar and sighed inwardly, trying to decide what could make her drunk fastest. “Vodka, please. A shot.”

As the bartender went to grab the bottle, she looked around the room for Jacob again. Not that it was easy to look for anything, with the flashing lights and the pounding music. The few giant televisions were all turned to the countdown for the new year.

Jacob was nowhere to be seen- dragged off by Roth, no doubt. She'd been insane to agree to come to this.

“One shot,” the bartender said, pushing it towards her.

She took it back in one swig, and it burned on the way down. “Another, please.”

At least the Alhambra was paying for the booze. It knew what to offer for a staff appreciation party, anyway.

She had knocked back the second when Jacob materialised at her shoulder. “Starting already, are we?”

“Yeah, well, getting drunk seemed like the best way to get through this. Where were you?” She could already feel the fogginess starting to take over. She really hadn't bothered with drinking very much after Tommy came along.

“Roth wanted to ask a few questions,” he said with a shrug. “I shook him off.” Stepping a little closer, he put a hand to the small of her back. “I really appreciate you being here, by the way. These things are sort of a drag, but you know, gotta at least show my face, and it's a lot more pleasant with you here. I didn't want you to spend New Year’s alone.”

“When can we leave?”

“Soon,” he promised.

It seemed to drag on forever. She kept a placid smile on as she was introduced to a flurry of faces as Jacob’s sister. The fourth one was a redhead- Greg, apparently- who seemed very interested in touching her arm as they were talking, to the point where she slipped away to the loo just to get away from it for a moment.

When she returned, Greg and Jacob had their heads close together. As she neared them, Greg gave her a strange sort of half-salute with his glass and immediately scurried away.

She cocked her head at Jacob. “What was that about?”

“He wanted to know if you were seeing anyone.” He took a long sip. “Told him you were. Big bloke, often angry. Very jealous.”

She shrugged and grabbed a champagne glass from a passing tray. “Close enough.”

Not that much later, she was starting to feel a bit wobbly, leaning against Jacob’s arm to keep everything straight. With a snort, he plucked the glass from her hand. “I think that's enough. I need you to stay conscious, given that we’ll actually have some privacy later.”

Oh yes, she remembered hazily. Tommy at Mother’s. Her lovely boy with his Nana. And privacy, that would be nice, and they could-

Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin as she craned her neck and pressed her lips to the soft patch of skin behind his ear. “Spoilsport,” she whispered.

“Beg pardon?”

If she just moved a little further, she'd be able to nibble on his ear. And maybe kiss where the stubble started. And-

“All right,” he said, gripping her arm firmly and starting to steer her away. “Come on, enough of that.”

He led her along to the coat check near the entrance, where he just ducked behind the counter and to the closet in the back. Following, she closed the door behind him; sensing an opportunity, she pressed herself to his back, layering another series of kisses to the curve of his neck.

“Christ,” he muttered, “forgot that you get like this when you drink. Come on, which one is your coat?”

“I don't want to find my coat,” she murmured, hands trailing down his front. He smelled so _very_ good, something sort of spicy and earthy, and she felt an irrational stab of jealousy at Roth having monopolized this for years.

“Mm,” he said, “come on, coat, and then we can get a cab back to the flat and you can do whatever you want.”

That sounded like it would definitely take too long. He really _did_ smell lovely. Instead of answering, she slid her hand down his front so she could try and push past the waist of his trousers.

“Whoa,” he said, quickly grabbing her wrist. “Hang on, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to hang on,” she whispered, moving around to his front when it proved impossible to shake his grip loose. Stupid Jacob and his stupid strong hands. “Please?”

His thumb came up to slide along her jaw, eyes locked tightly on her own. “I don’t know if- wait, what the shit am I _saying_.” Giving his head a brief shake, he snapped around, grabbed the lone chair, and shoved it under the door handle. “Get back here.”

Making a happy sound, she melted against him, moving in an awkward two-step towards the back of the room. “Oh Jacob,” she said, drawing a hair’s breadth away and looking up at him through lowered lashes, letting the alcohol power through her inhibitions. “Please be mean to me?”

He made a choked sound.

“It’s been so long,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in the knot of his tie and working it loose. “Don’t you miss me crying for you?”

She hardly had a moment to squeak in anticipation before she was shoved up against the back wall, his hand pinned behind her as he pulled at the zipper of her dress. Two sharp tugs and all of the fabric was down around her waist, and with another few movements the cups of her bra had been shoved down as well. Barely keeping up, Evie gasped as she felt fingers simultaneously pinch _hard_ at a nipple and slide her knickers aside, filling her roughly with what felt like it had to be three fingers at once.

“So desperate,” he whispered, the voice low. “Fucking soaked already and I hadn't even touched you- couldn't even wait another twenty minutes, could you?”

She moaned and tried to wrap her arms around him. “I want you-”

Teeth pinched at her shoulder and she groaned at the lovely shot of slight pain, immediately soothed by a swirling tongue. When his lips moved upwards, it was to rasp in her ear, a low growl that she’d dreamed about some lonely nights. “Did I say you could touch? Or talk?”

There was a particularly vigorous twist of his fingers and she moaned through closed lips, the flush of heat low in her abdomen enough to make her mind go white. God, her knees weren't going to hold up at this rate.

“Why should I give you what you want?” His teeth closed around her other nipple and she gasped again at the sensation, enough to sting but not truly hurt. “Why should horny little sluts get rewarded?”

“Please,” she moaned out, desperate for more than just fingers, desperate that he would scratch that itch that she just couldn't reach, “oh, please-”

“ _Shut_ ,” he hissed, suddenly twisting his hand so his palm ground roughly against her clit, “ _up_.”

Her knees were definitely going to give out. Hell, her pulse was so loud in her ears that she was starting to think she might _pass_ out.

“Maybe I should give you something to put in that pretty mouth,” he said, pulling a hand away from her chest to work at his belt. “What do you think about that?”

“Please,” she gasped out again, no longer even clear on what she was asking for, just that his fingers were pure magic. “Please, please-”

It was disappointing when he drew away, but she was quickly distracted when two hands pushed on her shoulders and she thudded to her knees. Not needing any further encouragement, she tugged his trousers and boxers down, tilting her head back and sliding his cock into her mouth, rocking her head around the intrusion of it.

He hissed happily as she moved, immediately thrusting as deeply as he could, until the movement began to make her eyes water. It was sloppy and messy, rather than careful, but she really wasn't certain that she could've managed anything else. A firm hand on the back of her head set the pace, probably faster than she would have done on her own, but the sensation of being so thoroughly _used_ was overdue and dizzyingly satisfying.  

“So beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down and stroking her cheek to wipe away one of the tears that had leaked out. “Debauched and lovely.”

The compliment made her head feel even more dazed, a tingling haze of pleasure that was somehow making the experience all the better. Breathing deeply through her nose, she tried to press against him until she was choking, her throat seizing a little until she drew back, over and over and over—

He suddenly hissed, jerking his hips back, panting and holding her at bay. “Gorgeous,” he said breathlessly, “but not how I want this to end.”

Evie staggered to her feet willingly, turning around without any instruction and bending at the waist, pressing her palms flat against the wall.

His chuckle was dark, enough to make her knees shake. “You know what you want, then?”

“Please fuck me,” she whispered, much too far gone for the long game of holding out.

Hands, calloused and warm, slid her skirt up to her waist and tugged her knickers down to her thighs. They finally came to rest gently on her behind; kneading, caressing. The first push of his cock was bliss, slow and hot, and she rocked back on her toes to try and encourage more.

“Easy,” he whispered, “got to be quiet, remember?”

It was sensible, she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind. But it was hard to obey when he sped up, and she had to clamp down on her lips tightly to stop from wailing from the combined delicious ache of it and the desire for harder, rougher, _more_.

As if reading her mind, he began to speed up, though still gently enough that the sound of their skin meeting was muffled. “Tonight, when we get home,” he promised, the words staggered by his movements, “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think. Can’t breathe. You’re going to be sore for _days_.” A hand wound her hair and yanked her neck backwards, the strain a beautiful thing. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

She let out a low and wordless moan in response.

“I said,” he insisted, giving her hair a sharp tug that made her gasp, “wouldn’t you like that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed out, her brain finally catching up, “yes, yes, _yes_ -”

“Shh,” he murmured, the voice coaxing, dark and sweet like syrup. “Don’t want people to come looking, do we?” With an abrupt movement, her hair was released; she sagged towards the wall, only stiffen in surprise when her hips were pulled a little higher and a hand sneaked down her abdomen.

The simultaneous pressure from within and without was nearly enough to make her eyes roll back into her head. She had to stuff her knuckles into her mouth to stop from wailing as the release snapped without any warning, much quicker and more intense than usual, and over just as fast. It was like a lightening strike, leaving a smouldering crater in its wake as she slid up against the wall, his movements still as steady as ever.

“Jesus, _please be mean to me_ ,” he repeated, parroting her words as she tried to catch her breath, each thrust now stroking against something still raw and tender that made her shake. “Do you ask every man that, beg them on your knees?”

“No,” she breathed, and it was the truth, this was part of the secret that was all wrapped up only in _him_. “No, only you, only ever you.”

His voice sounded a bit smug now, though she could hear the edge of his nearing release in it. “So you’ve spent all this time without having someone treat you as roughly as you deserve? God, no wonder why you’re so desperate. Isn’t this what you deserve?”

Were there words for this feeling? This hunger that rubbed raw, powerful enough to blind? All she could do was moan out his name quietly, a long and low sound, one that she barely recognized in herself; just when she thought that her legs wouldn’t be able to hold her up any more, she felt him bow over her and still, breath heavy on her neck as he shuddered.

She slumped downwards to the ground on her knees, needing a few moments to collect herself as she felt the warmth slick between her legs. Jacob was braced with his elbows on the wall over her, and when she blinked up lazily, he was grinning.

“So,” he said, a bit out of breath but still amused, “ _now_ can I get your coat so we can go home?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Me, noticing that this fic and Are You Mine now have the same number of subscribers]: The whole gang's here! :D 
> 
> Tumblr user [**Vaniri**](https://vaniri.tumblr.com/) drew [**this fucking hilarious picture of Tommy**](https://68.media.tumblr.com/cbd675451e26d3f7904ef3c8d9d54579/tumblr_okeygxEMft1qkw338o1_1280.png) that you all need to go look at right now. The set up is Jacob going clothes shopping for Tommy and making a few small alterations with a marker... (Evie's going to _kill_ him.) I ACCEPT THIS AS CANON. 
> 
> Literally the only reason that I haven't thrown my hands up in frustration and given up on this fic is because of the wonderful encouragement that y'all have left. So thank you for that.
> 
> Coming up next, at some point, theoretically: actual PLOT, whaaaaat


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if I had written just plot, this would be a normal-sized chapter. But y'all wanted smut, so now it's GIANT. I could've split them up but that would've fucked with my alternating chapter POV system and I finally decided _screw it_ , you just get this massive update all at once. YOU'RE WELCOME. 
> 
> This chapter should be titled "The wireless vibrator: Back by popular demand!" It doesn't get a lot of screen time but hell, I'm trying.

The toothpaste tasted strongly of mint, slowly washing the last dregs of the alcohol away. Jacob gave the mirror a quick scrub with his towel- the condensation from his jump in the shower was making everything foggy- and gave one last brush before checking his phone.

Ten minutes. That should be about enough.

He towelled off the worst of the water and wandered back through his flat. He was a grown man and this was his home; he should be able to walk around naked if he wanted to. A bit tricky to do with Tommy around, of course. But Tommy was away, wasn’t he? Away with Mother and probably eating too many sweets while he tried to stay up for the New Year.

As he passed the kitchen, the whimpering coming from his bedroom became audible. Scarves really didn’t make terribly effective gags.

When he crossed the threshold, there she was, right where he’d left her- bound to the bed by her ankles and wrists lashed above her head, vibrator whirring away at an unforgiving pace. She was arching so hard that the small of her back was clear off the bed, as if trying to escape from the constant pressure; it wouldn’t be that easy to shake off, though. It wasn’t the exact toy that they’d had as teenagers, but it was damn near close enough, and he’d made sure that it was snug in its curve against her skin.

She let out another whine. He was hard since before he’d even gotten into the room, but the sound made him honestly feel like he got just that bit harder. Jesus. “Hey sweetheart, you having fun?”

Her eyes were wide when she twisted around to look at him until they suddenly scrunched tightly, her neck thrown back as she bucked against the bindings. They held firm, though, as they should. He knew his way around a knot.

With a few taps to his mobile, he deactivated the vibrator, watching her collapse against the bedding. As her chest heaved, he leaned down to gently tug the toy loose, whistling as it came away glistening wet. “My god, will you look at that.”

She didn’t respond. He wasn't sure if she was listening, and that wouldn't do. He leaned up and quickly undid the gag, letting her ragged breaths fill the room.

“So,” he continued conversationally, “did you come?”

She averted her eyes immediately, refusing to look at him. “No.”

Oh, he couldn't have that. “I think you're lying.” He crawled up over her and wrapped his lips around a taut nipple, laving his tongue until he bit down without warning, ignoring her shocked yelp. “I don't like liars. So I'll ask again. Did you come?”

“Yes,” she whispered, face now bright red.

“How many times?”

“Three times.”

“And what did I tell you before I left?”

She scrunched up her face in humiliation, a truly beautiful sight. “That I couldn't come. But I- I couldn't help it-”

“I'll be the judge of that.” Two quick tugs had the ropes of her ankles loose, legs now free. The binding of her wrists had them together over her head, so it was easy to lift her slightly and roll her over onto her front while she mewled. “You remember what happens now, right?”

“I remember,” she moaned into the mattress.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

He leaned down to his crumpled and discarded pile of clothing, slowly removing the belt. “Remember that you can snap to safe word out as well. Now...” He ran the belt over the curve of her behind, letting her feel the cool leather. “I think three for each time, and one more for lying. Ten together. Can you do that?”

She was shaking now, though if he had to guess, it was mostly from anticipation. “Yes.”

“What do you say?”

There was a hitch of her breath. “… Please.”

“Perfect.” He bent the belt into a loop and raised his wrist before flicking it back down against her behind, a sharp snap that would sting more than genuinely hurt. “Count.”

“One,” she gasped out, trying to wriggle away from it until he placed a firm palm on the small of her back.

“And?”

“And…” Her neck curved as she buried her face against the mattress, seemingly to hide her embarrassment. The words were muffled but he heard them, so he allowed it. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he approved, before bringing the belt down again, this time on the other cheek, admiring the matching red stripes.

“Two,” she moaned, the word becoming elongated before she gasped when he slipped a thumb in her folds, moving his finger gently. “Tha- thank you!”

“Christ. Look at how fucking sloppy you are, how desperate. Want cock that badly? Hm?”

She was rocking wordlessly and moaning, so he snapped the belt down again, this time a little harder. He felt her cunt clench around his thumb at the impact, desperately trying to coax out more. Her head lurched off the pillow as she cried out. “Three! Oh, thank you, please!”

He snapped the fourth, fifth and sixth a little faster, lower down against her thighs, closer to where his hand was working. As she counted and obediently thanked him for each one, even spreading her legs wider and wiggling her hips invitingly, he switched to pumping her with two fingers and curling them inside her until she was starting to sob against the bed.

Fuck, he was hard. “Did you lie awake at night and fuck yourself with your fingers to try and feel like this? Did you think of me?”

“Yes yes yes,” she babbled, “oh God I missed you no one was ever as goo- seven!” She wailed, distracted when he bought the belt down again. He didn't really want to think about the others, even if the comparison was favourable. “Oh Jacob, oh, oh Christ please thank you _Jacob_ -”

“Filthy mouth,” he commented lightly, tossing the belt aside and bringing his hand down with a firm open smack over the lattice of red marks now across her behind. He hummed with approval as she counted the eighth and thanked him, though admittedly not terribly coherently. She was trying, that was enough.

She was so goddamn beautiful like this, writhing, cunt wet and open against his fingers, her hair a veritable bird’s nest from all her thrashing. It was a bit of a shame that he couldn't see her face- no doubt it was flushed a lovely pink- but the view of the red lines against the pale skin of her pert ass more than made up for it.

He gave a light backhand on her thigh and added another finger, grinning when she gasped and spasmed around him. Three was rather a lot, but she could do it.

“Ni-iiine, oh, please-” He could hear the tears, a mix of pain and dizzying desire. “Thank you, Jacob, thank you thankyou-”

He crawled up over her until he was practically pressed against her back, his arm taut at holding the angle of keeping it between her legs. “Can't wait to fucking be inside you, sweetheart. Gonna feel so fucking good.”

“Yes, _yes_ yes-”

“But maybe I'll just do this instead,” he continued, giving his hand a vicious twist so she bucked, her ass brushing against his cock. Oh, he was going to fuck her senseless. “Maybe just keep doing this and never give you that tenth.”

“No,” she wailed, trying to turn and face him until he pressed down with his weight and kept her pinned. “Please, no.”

The sheer rush of being in control so completely almost made him feel drunker than the actual drinks at the Alhambra. “Beg me.”

She suddenly became completely still, freezing against the bed. For a moment he thought he had overstepped until she twisted her head so that she could meet his gaze out of the corner of her eye, overbright with unshed tears, lips swollen from where she had bitten down on them so hard. “Please, Jacob,” she whispered, barely a puff of air. “Please, I need the tenth. I was bad. I lied. I deserve the tenth. Please punish me.”

Well, _shit_. He had to lean up on his elbows for a second to not totally lose control, but he followed it with a final and firm open-handed slap, admiring the jiggle of skin as she barely flinched, melting as he gave his fingers a last few thrusts before pulling them away.

She made a disappointed noise at the loss of him, so he rolled her over again onto her back. “You beg so beautifully, and it makes me so fucking hard. And you took your punishment so well- so good for me, so beautiful, my good girl.” He pressed a kiss to her nose, letting his cock make bobbing contact with the heat between her legs as she twitched her hips hopefully. “Would you like your reward?”

“Yes,” she whispered into the air, tone pleading.

He reached up and undid her wrists as well, rubbing some blood back into them as he went. “How would you like it?”

“Just like this.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, where they were nearly pressed together; laying her nose against the crook of his neck.

It was unexpectedly tender, sweet and loving in a way that made him melt all over. He was _such_ a lucky man. “All right, then, sweetheart. You've been so good.”

“Oh,” she breathed softly when he finally pushed into her, easily sliding right to the hilt from her slickness.

Rather than setting a quick rhythm, he rocked up into her, gradual movements that made her make little adorable breathy gasps against his shoulder, his nose buried in her soft and sweet smelling hair. It was heaven to have her back. Heaven, heaven, heaven. He never wanted to let go. She was so hot and wet, each movement a blissful warmth, her willing eagerness doing serious things to his ego. “Beautiful Evie,” he whispered, tilting his head so he could say the words against the shell of her ear. “Do I feel good?”

“So good.” She was now squirming against him, her fingers skating down his back. “So, so good, oh please, Jacob, please, I need— need—”

“What do you need?”

She averted her gaze again, face going pink as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. The blush was just the cutest thing.  

Despite the urge to move, he kept torturously still, ignoring her little encouraging twitches. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll stay right here. There’s no need to be shy, you were literally begging less than two minutes ago. This evening started with me fucking you against in a wall in a closet, if you’ll recall, don’t clam up on me now.”

She was still staring at some middle distance over his shoulder, face contorted with uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he leaned down and latched his teeth to the skin where the curve of her breast started, sucking lightly until he knew he would leave a mark. She squirmed under him and the movement was enough to make him want to start thrusting again, but he resisted the temptation. When he finally lifted his head again, she was panting, little breaths of desperation. “Tell me, sweetheart.” She tried to close her eyes, but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me.”

She scrunched her face up and took a deep breath. “Ruin me. _Ruin me_. Please— I need you to mark me—”

He responded by yanking her legs up, pressing her knees nearly to her chest and leaning on them as leverage to start fucking into her in earnest. Each movement prompted another breathy wail and he almost thought about getting the gag again, but fuck it, it was New Year’s and he wanted to hear it and his neighbours could deal. Her wails had words in them but it was impossible to say what they were, an incoherent mixture of his name and profanities and pleading. With her legs up and crossed, she was that much tighter, just like he’d dreamed about for so many years.

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “so fucking filthy, can you feel the stripes I put on your ass? How fucking wet you are for me?” Even though he’d already gone once, he could tell that he was close already— this is what she did to him, completely swamped his mind with forbidden lust so potent that it wiped out everything else.

“Oh God oh Jacob _please_ ­—”

Her nails scratched down his back and it shoved him almost aggressively over the edge. The orgasm was nearly blinding and he felt her tense completely as he put his whole strength into his last few thrusts, her cunt clenching so tightly that he nearly forgot how to breathe. Fuck, she was so perfect, and how had he gone so long without this?

She captured his long moan with a kiss, legs wrapping around his waist again, and it was a delirious closeness that he wanted to revel in forever and ever.

As they broke apart and lay there silently, basking in the afterglow, he realized that midnight had probably already passed. He didn't particularly care that he'd missed it. “Happy New Year”, he murmured, rolling over and spooning her body against his, hand tucked comfortably against her breast.

She made a humming noise back.

This was easily the best New Year’s he'd had in over half a decade.

\---

Some weeks later, Jacob sleepily emerged from his room to find a dishevelled looking Evie leaning over Tommy.

He frowned at the clock. “Isn't your interview soon?” It definitely was, he didn't need to ask. He'd committed each of them to memory, given that they were the glorious representation of her decision to stay.

“Tommy’s not well,” she said, worry clear on her face. “I think I'll postpone.”

“Postpo- hey, no, don't do that, I can watch him.”

“Don't you have work today?”

Jacob shrugged. “Just some annual meetings report with Roth, I can delay. It's fine. What's wrong?”

She stroked Tommy’s head with a gentle hand. “Fever, and he coughed all night… I think it's just a bug, but I'm still worried.”

As Jacob got closer to Tommy, he could see that the boy was breathing shallowly, his face contorted a little in pain in his sleep. “I'll watch him,” he said, tone determined. “Won't take my eyes off him. You go, don't worry about us.”

Chewing on her lip, she nodded slowly, still obviously hesitant. “You'll text me updates?”

“I promise.”

After a short period of fussing and reassuring her that the blazer and skirt looked very sharp (it did- he would have to remember to ask her to pull that out for when they were alone sometime), Evie departed. He was sure that she would knock the interview out of the park. She was brilliant and dedicated, what more could any employer want?

Keeping one eye on Tommy, he made some breakfast and dialled Roth. “Hey, yeah, it's me. Can't come in today. Can we move it tomorrow?”

Roth sounded annoyed. “Why?”

“Minding the nephew, he's sick.”

“Why is that your job?”

Things hadn’t really gotten easier in the intervening weeks, with Jacob consistently avoiding Roth and Roth getting more and more obviously irritated. “She was busy, what do you think?”

His tone turned disdainful. “So you're a babysitter _and_ paying for them to live now, are you? What a great parasite-host you are, my dear.”

“I'm hanging up now,” Jacob said, and went to press the button before he heard Roth heave an exaggerated sigh.

“I'll come over,” he snapped. “See you in twenty.”

And he was gone before Jacob could argue.

He was a bit uneasy about it, but it would probably be fine. For all of his faults, Roth was a genuinely diligent businessman, and it made sense that he was keen to get this meeting out of the way. They could go over the figures before he presented them to investors. He was probably on a deadline.

When Roth arrived, it was with an arm full of folders and an impatiently tapping foot. “I still don’t see why you’re on childcare duty.”

“Just let it go,” Jacob said lightly, leading him through and shoving aside some space on the dining room table so they could work.

They were about halfway through when Tommy started to rasp, his cough becoming that much worse. Jacob stood in alarm, and Roth huffed impatiently. “What _now?_ ”

“Give me a second,” Jacob said, going over to the boy’s side and gently placing his hand on Tommy’s forehead. He was burning up, much hotter than before, and his skin was clammy to the touch.

For a moment, he debated calling Evie. But no, he couldn’t interrupt her. And he could do this- this is what dads did, right? He was a dad. He could do this.

“Roth,” Jacob called from the couch, “could you go and get some children’s cough syrup? The flu stuff?”

“Oh no,” Roth said mildly, “not a chance. I’m not getting roped into this.”

“Come on, man. I’m asking. I never ask for anything.”

Roth just ran his finger along another column of figures. “And neither do I, my dear. We have a relationship that is very respectful of our mutual independence.”

One that mostly consisted of fucking, more like. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, then?”

“Call your sister.”

“No. She’s busy.”

Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Roth rolled his eyes. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the brat while you go, then. I can keep working that way.”

It didn’t seem quite right, but looking down at Tommy, Jacob was more sure than ever that he at least needed some painkillers or something. Surely it couldn’t hurt? Roth wasn’t the best person in the world, but they _had_ been together for years. That had to count for something.

Mind made up, Jacob went to tug his coat on. “I’m just going to drive round the corner and come right back. Keep an eye on him and text me if anything changes?”

Roth made a noncommittal noise.

\---

No more than ten minutes later, Jacob was taking the steps two at a time back up to his flat, small bag with children's cough and flu medicine and lozenges in hand. He’d grabbed a thermometer, too, and had a quick chat with the pharmacist about best practices. Things were going to be fine.

When he walked in, Roth was where he left him. Jacob quickly walked to the couch and discovered that Tommy was now sitting up, awake, eyes a bit unfocused.

Something was wrong. “Tommy?” he said, dropping to his knees.

“Unc’ Jake,” Tommy slurred, head drooping a little. “Don’ feel so good.”

“Roth,” Jacob said, trying to keep his voice calm and not frighten the boy. “Did you do something?”

Roth was still writing and flipping through papers. “Just one of my dear old mother's remedies for a cough.”

“Which is?”

“Bourbon. Found yours in the shelf. The coughing was irritating.”

Jacob whipped around to stare at Roth so quickly that he almost felt his neck crick. “You did _what?_ ”

“Calm down, always worked fine with me.”

Tommy was definitely not fine. He was now making little lurching noises like he might be sick, and his gaze still wouldn’t focus properly. Even without any knowledge or experience with children whatsoever, Jacob could tell that this was _bad_. “How much?”

 “I don’t know, a few shots?”

“A few…” For a moment, Jacob’s vision went white, his anger so intense that he could barely even see. Roth had to go, now, before Jacob did something he would regret. Standing slowly and trying to collect himself, he walked to the table and snapped Roth’s binder shut over his fingers. "Get the fuck out of my flat.”

“My dear-”

Leaning forward, Jacob narrowed his eyes and hissed the words out. Screaming was tempting but would frighten Tommy. “Get the _fuck_ out of my _flat_.”

Perhaps Roth suddenly understood how genuinely close he was to physical danger, because he stood lightly and collected his things. “We can talk about this lat-”

“Go. _Now._ ”

As the front door clicked shut, Jacob rushed back to the couch and dropped to his knees next to Tommy in despair. The boy’s head was lolling now, his face a dangerous pink.

With shaking hands, Jacob dialled 999.

\---

The doctor was talking, but Jacob felt like he was only properly absorbing every third word. “—keep him under observation for alcohol poisoning. The worst has passed, we think, but we’ve given him some antibiotics for the fever and we’ll keep him on a drip for dehydration, we’ll have to watch him for a while just to make sure—”

Tommy looked so small and fragile in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and surrounded by beeping machines. He had cried on and off all the way to the hospital until he fell asleep from pure exhaustion, and Jacob didn’t think he had ever felt more helpless in his entire life. Even when Father died. Even when Evie left.

“Thomas? Jacob?” Evie’s frantic voice snapped him out of his reverie. He hadn’t heard her arrive in the ward; she was out of breath and had clearly raced here as fast as she could. She’d been nearly incoherent with panic when he phoned from the ambulance. “What’s happening, what’s going on—”

“Ma’am,” the doctor said gently, “as I’ve been explaining to your husband here—”

“He’s not my husband,” Evie gritted out immediately.

“Well then, uh, to the boy’s Father—”

He could see Evie trying to control herself. “He’s not that either.” Jacob felt something shrivel in pain deep in his heart. “He’s my brother, and I would like to you to talk to me now, please.”

“Right.” The doctor blinked. “Well, as I was saying, the risk of alcohol poisoning has passed…”

Now at the side of the bed, Evie hunched over Tommy with a sort of desperation that Jacob suspected he would see if he looked in the mirror. There was a second before her gaze snapped to him, now brimming with anger. “Wait in the hallway. Have Mother come through. She drove me here.”

“Can I—”

“ _No._ Go.”

Feet heavy, he walked to the waiting room and gestured to Mother that she should go down the hall and take a left. Now alone in a crowd of parents and small children all waiting for some reason or another, he sat and put his face in his hands.

His pocket vibrated. When he pulled out his mobile, he discovered that he had nearly a dozen missed called from the Alhambra and Roth. Tapping quickly, he sent out two responses: _I quit_ to the Alhambra, and _Go fuck yourself_  to Roth.

\---

"Jacob."

He raised his head and blinked, bleary eyed. How long had he been sitting here, watching people go back and forth? It had to be almost midnight now. Evie was standing in front of him, looking as dishevelled and exhausted as he felt. She was still in her interview clothes, he realised distantly, her feet flat on the ground while she held those impractical heels hooked on her fingers. How had the interview even gone? Had she had to leave halfway? Had he ruined it? Should he ask? Should he-

“Drive me back to the flat.”

Probably best not to ask. “Tommy?”

“Is with Mother. I need to get some of his things.”

“I don't...” He opened his hands in a hopeless gesture. “I don't have my bike. I came in the ambulance.”

She tossed a set of keys to him. “For Mother’s car. I don't have a license here, remember?”

They drove to the flat in silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and her fury radiating off her in waves. Once they were inside, he feebly tried to offer to help. “I can get you a backpack-”

“No,” she said flatly, walking with purpose to the cupboard where she dragged out her giant suitcase. She began to move throughout the living room, tossing everything of hers and Tommy’s into the bag.

Jacob felt his breathing become uneven. “But I thought- just for the hospital-”

“We're going to Devon with Mother,” she snapped.

“What- now?”

“Yes, now!”

He walked to her, tried to hold her arms, make her see sense. “Evie, you can't do a four hour drive with him right now, at least give it a day-”

“Don't touch me!” She tried to shove him off but he held firmer in desperation. She had to think rationally.

“It's not safe, you and Mother are exhausted-”

“And it's safe here?” She froze and he tried to pull her closer, to stroke his hand along her back and soothe her distress, but she was like stone. “After you let that _monster_ near my boy?”

It was horrible that she had a point. “Please, at least don't go driving off now. At least rest here tonight.”

She abruptly started to struggle in his arms again, trying to shove him away, apparently now just venting her anger. “I don't want to be here a _minute_ more than I have to you _stupid_ bastard son of a _bitch_ fucker you _stupid bastard_ -”

“Evie, please,” he could feel himself starting to shake, and it came out in his voice as he held her ever tighter. “Please.”

There were a few more tense seconds before she suddenly slumped in his arms, adrenaline exhausted, limp and spent. “I thought it would be different,” she finally whispered, voice horribly broken.

“What?”

“I thought you would finally put us first. But it's just happening again. I quit my _job_ to- God, I was such a fool. You'll always have him in your life. Always. He’ll always be poisoning you.”

This hurt much, much more than her anger. “No, it's not-”

“I’ll bring Tommy back and we’ll stay tonight,” she said, voice now flat and dead. “But only because you're right, we shouldn't travel yet.”

Oh God, no, this couldn't be happening. Jacob felt like he was paralysed, unable to respond.

She stepped away from his now-unresisting arms and went to pick up the bag. “But tomorrow, we’re going. And not coming back.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still genuinely on the fence about if she should forgive him, tbh.


	12. Chapter 12

It was strange to be back in this house.

Thomas and Mother were playing in the kitchen, and Evie could hear his delighted laughter as he “helped” to make cookies. The place seemed a lot brighter and less oppressive than when she had been here as a teenager, but that made a certain degree of sense. This time, she was here of her own volition. Sitting in this bedroom, taking a short break to collect her thoughts, felt worlds apart from the furious tear-soaked nights that she had passed on this very bed.

Her mobile was sitting on the windowsill. She hadn’t heard from Jacob yet today, which was a bit unusual. He had consistently been texting once a day, all with a variation on the same message: _Can we talk?_

Her answer was always the same. _Not yet._

She couldn’t avoid him forever. She knew that, and she had known it from the second that she’d lost her temper at him after returning from the hospital. All the same, her thoughts had been too muddied and confused to think clearly and his proximity had been making it that much worse.

So she had finished packing her things and fetched Thomas back to Jacob’s flat; Jacob had been right in that it wasn't fair to Thomas to make that journey straightaway. But they then departed the next morning with Mother nonetheless.

As they left, she had consented to a hug from Jacob, giving his arm a squeeze. “I need to think things through,” she had murmured to him, and he had merely bitten his lip and nodded.

And she _was_ thinking it through. Almost constantly, she rolled plans for the future over in her head, talking ideas through with Mother and trying to work out the best solution. There were so many variables.

Another happy shriek from Thomas drew her out of her thoughts. She was about to stand and return to the kitchen when there was a rap on the window.

For a moment, she felt as though she was in a dream, sucked under by a serious sense of déjà vu. When she turned, sure enough, Jacob’s sheepish face was beyond the glass. But now, of course, he didn’t sport the features of an impetuous youth who was delighted at having broken the rules. Instead, it was the remorseful look of a man who was trying to make right.

After hesitating a moment, she dragged the window open. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“I told you that I wasn’t ready yet.”

“I know, I just… It’s been a week, and it’s not really the same, apologizing over text. I wanted to try and person. I can go, though, if you’d like.”

She stared at him for a moment longer before deciding that it would be churlish to deny him. “Give me a minute.”

Mother and Thomas quickly confirmed that they would entertain themselves perfectly well on their own. As she stepped out, Evie took a deep breath of crisp air, savouring the smell of the grass and Mother's early flowers. Surely that had to be one of the nicest things about being so far in the countryside.

Jacob was shifting foot to foot at the garden wall, hands now stuffed in his pockets. He followed as she set out a leisurely pace down the lane, turning off down one of her favourite rambles that cut through farmer’s fields.

He cleared his throat after they had been walking in silence for about two minutes. “I finished the paperwork for quitting, got my tax shit. I’m never going back there.”

The sun was setting, giving the whole sky a crimson glow. She closed her eyes and let the words sink in, the relief of it a little soured by what it had taken to finally extract him from that poisonous environment. “What will you do for work?”

“Not sure yet. I have a fair bit put away, so it’s not urgent. I’ve actually…” He suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. “Been thinking I might go back to school, take some courses online or something. Being hired muscle for a night club and underground boxing doesn’t exactly make for an impressive resume.”

That thought was interesting and would have to be pursued later, but for now, she was still focused on the immediate. “And him?”

“Blocked his number and changed the locks. Should’ve…” He scratched his neck awkwardly. “I really honestly thought he was just a bit scattered, a bit- well, _out there_ \- but otherwise normal. Now I think on the fact that he’s got a good two decades on both of us and it seems a lot weirder that he clung to me so tightly. He absolutely did _not_ want to grow up. I mean, it definitely wasn’t that I was mature for my age.”

That earned a bit of a snort from her, and he glanced at her hopefully. “No, I suppose not.”

“So it’s over. Truly, truly over.” He reached out and lightly grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop and face him. “It was the moment you came back, really, I was just being a coward about calling a spade a spade.”

The glow from the sunset highlighted the planes on his face, throwing them into sharper relief. She knew that he was waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t think of what to say. Instead, she just stared, committing those sharp features to memory.

“And…” He dropped her arm, seemingly steeling himself in the face of her silence. “I want you to come back. Both of you. I need you.”

It finally broke the spell and she lowered her eyes. “We can’t go back, Jacob.”

“But-”

“I don’t mean…” She cut him off. “I just mean that we can’t go back to exactly how things have been for the last few months. We can’t keep living on your couch.”

“Oh.” His brow cleared. “Well, that’s fine, I’ll find a different place, you can have your own room. I’ve been kind of wanting a change of scene anyway.”

But that presented just as many problems as it did solutions, not to mention the raised eyebrows that they would get from people around them. “Mother has been thinking about buying a house on the outskirts of London. I think that we’ll be going to live with her.”

“Oh.” His face immediately fell, and she could see the flicker of panic beginning to grow in his eyes. “But… You’ll let me see Tommy, right?”

She absently lifted her hand and traced the scar bisecting his cheek. She had been so horrified to get the call from him about that injury as he sat in A&E, waiting to be seen by the doctors. When she went in and held his hand, she could’ve sworn that she felt a sympathetic pain across her own cheek.

And yet, he had gone back to the man who had given him that very scar. Not directly, perhaps, but the man who was making money off of Jacob’s injuries.

She couldn’t understand it. She still didn’t. It was such a ridiculous decision. The thought made the anger bubble again for a moment, before it dissipated with the thought that if Jacob had been a sensible person- well, he probably wouldn’t be with her either.

Sighing, she tilted forward until she could press her brow against the jut of his collarbone. She felt his hand hesitantly come up to stroke the back of her neck, and she could practically feel the hope vibrating off of him.

“Of course,” she said finally. “I wouldn’t keep you from him.”

The movement of his throat was against her forehead when he swallowed. “And you? Can I see you?”

Perhaps she wasn’t as immune from making ridiculous decisions as she liked to think. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“I will be for a while.”

“I know.”

“Don’t do that again.”

His head shifted as he pressed his lips to her skin, warm and reassuring. “That fucker’s out of my life for good. Just took me a while to see what you saw, is all.”

Pressing the rest of her body against him, she tilted her neck back so she could look at him. “In that case, I guess I’ll be keeping an extra toothbrush at your flat even after I move out. It’s…” Admitting this made her a bit nervous, with its implied indefinite future together, but it had played a huge role in her decision. “This way, do you see, we can actually be _together_ when I’m with you? I know it’s not the same as the three of us living together, but I’d always be looking over my shoulder, especially as Thomas got older. This way we have our space. And I’m sure that Mother would be happy to have you over for dinner every night, if she could. She’s thrilled to have family back. This way you can be in our lives, but we can also actually be a couple without always worrying about what happens if Thomas finds out.”

His head tilted slowly, his gaze searching and even. “You’ve put some thought into this.”

She had. “What you did was ill-advised, but it wasn’t intentional. I just… Needed a bit of time to cool off. And what we were doing wasn’t workable in the long-term anyway.”

He took a deep breath. "It's not what I would choose, but if it means I can still see you both, I'll take it."

A weight felt as though it lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you."

Jacob tucked her close again and she relaxed against him, trying to believe that they were capable of genuine change and growth like any other couple. That they could become stronger through this, like a broken bone knitting together. When he moved to kiss her, she kissed him back, trying to bend her stubborn and cautious nature to accept that some risks were simply worth taking.

They stood there together until the sun had set entirely, slowly swaying back and forth together, buffeted by the warm breeze. When it finally became too cold, they sat out towards the house hand in hand.

\---

The office in the Alhambra was dark.

Roth hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on as evening set in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. The end of his cigar glowed red every time he lifted it to his lips, the haze of smoke a pleasant burning in his lungs, the tang of alcohol strong on his tongue.

The burning grounded him, in a way. It always had.

And he needed grounding, as of late. Chaos was a glorious purpose in life and he enjoyed nothing more than tossing cards into the air and letting them fall where they would, but he was finding that he _really_ didn’t like it when he wasn’t the one making it happen.

When had it started? The answer to that, at least, was simple. Things had been gone tits up as soon as that fucking sister had arrived on the scene.

Roth thought back to the righteous fury in her stare upon their first meeting, perhaps even with a touch of… Jealousy? It was curious in itself that they had never met before. After four years of fucking, Roth had been quite certain that Jacob didn’t have any surprises left in store.

Was she even really Jacob’s sister? Or was that some sort of weird cover for an affair? It wasn’t Jacob’s style, to be sure, to weave a falsehood that complicated. But then, _his_ Jacob didn’t give up work for child-minding. Didn’t abruptly disappear for weeks on end, going from a fuckable treat to a ghost overnight. Didn’t fly into a rage and cut every tie loose just because of a perceived wrongdoing against some stupid kid.

He stubbed the cigar out and took another long drink. Things didn’t fucking end this way.

He wouldn’t let them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought of the bond between these two (especially in the modern AU) as being less like a firm board and more like a stretch of gunpowder. They don't break; they just fizz along until there's a flashpoint of an explosion and then things carry along again. 
> 
> NOW CROWD-SOURCING: ideas for Jacob's future career. Throw them into the comments if you've got one.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very disappointed that none of you suggested porn as a viable future career option for Jacob. I MEAN REALLY. The winning choice came by way of Zayjay- thanks a million for doing my work as a writer for me. ;) 
> 
> 100 kudos!! -dances- Have some more smut to celebrate!

Shoulders straining, Jacob hauled the last bookcase up the stairs, setting it down with a heavy _oof_. It was a relief to finally have the thing off his hands, the little indents in his skin from the edges proving the weight of the damned thing. Almost as much of a relief as it was to know the rental van was finally empty.

Evie tutted from behind him. “A little bit to the left.”

“Are you serious?” With a groan, he reached down and lifted it again, not wanting to endure another lecture about scratching the wooden floors. As if Tommy wouldn’t destroy the entire house in months anyway.

She made a long and appraising noise before she nodded, apparently satisfied. His reward was a small peck on the cheek. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“I’m sick of moving,” he grumbled, muttering the words at no one in particular. First it had been taking the furniture out of the old house and into storage while Evie wandered the halls, looking lost and small. No amount of comfort seemed to make any difference as she chased Father’s ghost from room to room. It was definitely for the best that the old house was moving to new hands.

Then there had been moving his own things to a new flat, a mere few blocks away from where Mother had finally settled on purchasing a house. It was a fair way out of central London- a proper house in this city was no laughing matter- but with the combined sales of the house in Devon and the house in Crawley, it would apparently be enough. Evie later confided that she had insisted on paying rent to make sure that Mother had something to live on.

Then there was moving things out of Mother’s old house, and _then_ from storage into the new house, back and forth and back and forth until everything ached. He could hardly ask Mother to do any heavy lifting, and other than the occasional spotting from Evie, he had managed it mostly on his own.

He needed to get back to his own place and have a long bath. Although, then there would be unpacking to do. Yech.

Glancing around the door to make sure that Tommy wouldn’t come barrelling down— though it was unlikely, given that he was occupied with his new room and ‘helping’ by scattering all of the pieces of his new IKEA bed everywhere so that it would be a miserable job to build the damned thing later— Jacob pulled Evie in for a kiss.

She hummed against his lips before batting him away with a smile. “Not here, but yes later. Remember?”

He groaned and bumped his forehead to hers. “How much later?” He’d barely had a chance to touch her since she left, let alone do anything intimate. Then there had been another two weeks of organizing all this moving. It was maddening.

At least her cold shoulder was thawing, though. He was being diligently responsible and helpful and that seemed to be doing the trick. It helped that Tommy had bounced back from the Roth-is-an-asshole incident with enthusiasm that only a four-year old could manage.

“Well...” She traced a finger down his front. “I suppose I could ask Mother to mind Thomas tonight, so I can help you unpack.”

Oh yes. “You suppose?”

She looked up at him through lidded eyes, and he vaguely had a flash of having a similar conversation when they were younger. “Will you ask nicely?”

With a long swallow, he reached out with his leg and kicked the door shut. That done, he advanced on her until he could murmur directly in her ear. “Maybe you’ve forgotten from all that time away from me, but I don’t ask.”

Her breathing became a little shallower and she stood stock still, encouragement enough in itself.

“So,” he continued, slowly lifting his hand and tracing his thumb along her jawline until his palm rested lightly against her throat. “Do you feel like asking?”

She raised her chin. “Asking for what?”

Ah, belligerence, even better. “I have some ideas.” He was hard already at those _ideas_ , oh, the million ideas that he had for guaranteed privacy and an empty bed.   

“I—” Her words broke off into a gasp when he abruptly shoved a hand past the loose and comfortable waist of her trousers, easily tucking the fabric of her knickers aside and stroking his fingers lightly, the gentleness a contrast to the firm grip now braced against her collarbone. “But— not here—”

He gave her his most innocent face. “I’m not doing anything.”

She almost laughed before he gently slid one finger slowly inside, rubbing, coaxing; she was already slick, because of _course_ she was. Her hands flew up to grip at his shoulders and she let out the smallest little keening moan next to his ear before she clamped her lips shut. After a moment of clenching her fingers around his skin, she let out a panting series of breaths. “You’re a bastard sometimes, you know that?”

“I can stop,” he offered, stilling. Not that he wanted to stop, of course. He wanted to keep grinding up against her, even the dull friction infinitely better than the company of his hand that he had enjoyed these past few weeks.

The exquisite contorted agony on her face was a thing of beauty. “Uh…”

“All right,” he continued, and started to step away.

“No,” she whispered, fingers tightening. “Don’t stop.”

He stilled and leaned a little closer to her, bowing his neck so he could watch the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Don’t stop what?”

The hissed breath was warm on his neck. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“But how will I know if you don’t ask?”

She yanked his hand back downwards, trying to rock against it, letting out a quiet and plaintive sound.

Oh, she was just the most beautiful thing. “Sorry, sweetheart, not gonna cut it.”

She took a deep and hissed breath. “Fine. Please keep touching me.”

It would do. But, of course, she was right about the appropriacy of the place, and he was on his best behaviour to get back in her good graces. So he withdrew his hand anyway and gave her a peck on the forehead. “I will, tonight, if you organize babysitting.”

Her grin was wide even as she threw her head back and groaned.

\---

She arrived right on schedule.

Jacob gestured inside his flat, waving for her to come through. “Welcome to my humble abode.” Right now it seemed even smaller and more humble than it was, with cardboard boxes strewn everywhere. He’d made some supper and set it up as best he could amidst the rubble, even going to the trouble of pulling out some paper napkins. Seemed like the sort of thing Evie would like. “If my lady would come this way—”

The rest got lost when she flung her arms around him and crashed into him for a clumsy kiss, all tongue and teeth as she pressed the whole length of her body against him.

“Uh,” he managed, when she finally broke away and started peppering soft kisses down his jawline, “nice to see you too—”

“Missed you,” she mumbled against his jawline, fingers already working at his belt. “Was angry but still missed you, my fingers really aren’t the same.”

For a moment, he was about to tease her for being so needy, as if he hadn’t been just as lonely. But the image she painted took him from half-ready to completely hard, utterly distracting him away. “Yeah? Not big enough for you, eh?”

She dropped to her knees by way of response, tugging his cock loose and taking him in her mouth in one fluid motion.

Oh, _fuck_. He tipped his head back and groaned aloud, reaching forward to tangle her hair through his fingers. Her mouth was so hot and wet, and she was adding little twists with her hand that felt divine, each pull a shiver of pleasure. It became that much harder to breathe when he heard the hissed inhale through her nose before she lurched further forward, until there was the clench of the back of her throat, enough to make his eyes roll back into his head—

She choked a little and it probably made him a bad person, but damn if he didn’t enjoy that sound. She drew away and blinked up at him, wide eyes glistening in the dim light of his front hallway, lips now red and slightly swollen. “Good?”

There were times when he thought he’d never get enough of that slightly pleading look. “So good,” he encouraged, tightening his hand in her hair until she shivered. “Didn’t say you could stop.”

Her next strokes became rougher as she pumped back and forth, the suction of her mouth uneven from her speed, but it only added to the rush of it as far as he was concerned. All too soon, he felt his orgasm drawing up, and he had to hold her away. She wiggled against his hold, whispering a “please” that made him feel like the goddamn sexiest man on earth.

“We could walk the dozen steps that way to an actual bed,” he crooned, “or I could take you in the hallway like the desperate whore you are. What do you think?”

She responded by hooking her hands against the backs of his knees and he followed the motion as he knelt down on the floor. With surprising force, she shoved him onto his back and climbed over him, already wiggling out of her leggings with a keen determination. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she panted, kicking off the knickers that followed.

“That explains some things.” When she finally splayed her legs over him and tried to sink down onto his cock, he gripped her firmly by the waist, not letting it happen. “What, you don’t even want my fingers or my mouth first? Honestly that hungry?”

She pushed against his arms with real effort, but the pointlessness of her movement made him feel a bit smug. “I wanted you to keep going back at home.”

“These are your rules, remember.”

“I know,” she moaned, hair beginning to fall out of her tight bun and around her face. “I know, but I just want you to fill me _so badly_.”

Damn. “Pretty sure you we should warm you up a bit, first. No need to hurt you.”

A strange look came over her face, lip curled as she tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not _that_ well-endowed.”

If it was meant to goad him into action, it worked. With a huff, he quickly reached down and aligned them properly before he held her waist again, gripping her tightly before he pulled her down and shoved his hips up in the same sharp motion.

She half-shrieked and contorted above him, waist twisting as her hands slapped against the hallway wall. The fucking tightness and warmth of it was as good as it ever was, and he was quite confident that she would adjust quickly— even though he’d barely even put his hands on her, he could feel that she was slick and wet.

He gave a few more thrusts and she swung forward over him, face relaxing as her mouth fell open. “Ja– oh fuck, _Jacob_ —”

That was more like it. He relaxed against the floor, grinning as she dragged his shirt up and spanned her hands over his chest. He’d half a mind to undress her properly as well, get a proper view of those lovely tits, but ah well. They had time. “Nice?”

“Please,” she breathed out again, rocking her hips back and forth. “Please—”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty determined to lead this one, so I think I’ll just let you.”

She moaned but sped up her movements, now practically bouncing over him. Curious, he lifted his neck a little so he could watch where they were joined—

Everything went dark as her hands covered his eyes. “Don’t look,” she said, sounding embarrassed.

“Excuse me?” He yanked her wrists away. “Hands behind your back.” When she hesitated, he snaked a hand up her shirt and gave a hard nipple a brisk pinch. “Or I’ll tie them there.”

She shifted back on her haunches, twining her hands behind her obediently before she resumed moving, moaning louder than ever.

Deliberately, and with purpose, he propped up on his elbows and stared at the point where she was rising and falling, enveloping him with warmth with each downward moment, his cock red and angry and coated with her arousal. _That_ image was being saved in his head for later. “Look, sweetheart, I can see where you’re fucking yourself on my cock. I can see it all, how wet you are. How fucking eager you are for me. Poor thing, did you spend all day wishing for this?”

She scrunched her face shut but kept moving, hips flexing as she canted back and forth.

“Go on, tell me. Tell me and I might join in here.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she immediately panted out, apparently enticed past her embarrassment by the promise of a harder fucking. “I wanted to tell you to forget the rules and just fuck me in the bathroom, against the sink and with your hand over my mouth so no one would hear, I wanted that— I wanted it—”

He liked to think of himself as a man of his word. So he lay his back flat against the ground again and planted his feet squarely, finding the leverage to thrust up into her. She squealed at his first movement and he couldn’t help but grin when the sound became a moan, sated and happy. “Like it when I fuck you rough?”

Words were apparently beyond her now. She was still making noises, but they were broken strings of sounds and babbling drawn out repetitions of his name, her fingers curling so tightly against his chest that he almost thought her nails might break skin.

With both of them working together— hadn’t they always been such a good team?– it became impossible to hold off his release. The orgasm felt so good that he even forgot about the developing crick in his neck against the hard floor, everything reduced to Evie and her clenching cunt and her beautiful moans. When he finally relaxed, her arms snapped out and braced against both sides of his head, her head bowed as she blinked in an unfocused way over him.

Well, that was one way to have a reunion. “Would you like some dinner?” he managed, still panting from exertion.

She collected herself. “I would.” She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before giving him a wicked grin. “And then bed, for round two.”

\---

Round two turned into round three, and that was _really_ all he could manage— he wasn’t a teenager any more, and even if the spirit was willing, there was only so much the flesh could do. Thankfully, she seemed fairly exhausted by that point herself, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as her breathing slowly evened out.

Propping himself up against the headboard, Jacob pulled her to rest her head against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. “You have another interview this week, right?”

“Yes. But before you ask, no, I don’t need you to watch Thomas. I’ve organized for him to go to nursery twice a week, for when Mother can’t watch him.”

“I know,” he said, slightly wounded at the reminder of how horribly his last child-minding stint had gone. “But I thought I would take him there. Drop him at 9, and there’s a local pool nearby, thought I would swim for a while and spend some time in the gym before I pick him up.” 

She craned her neck around at him. “Why do you know the time for his nursery?”

“You wrote it on the calendar.” It was a big and gaudy thing taped up to the fridge at Mother’s, detailing where everyone needed to be in colour-coded pen. Very Evie.

“You checked?”

She didn’t need to sound _quite_ so surprised. “Yeah, thought I could help by doing pick up and drop off.”

At that, she lifted her head off his chest and shifted around fully to stare at him. “All right, who are you?”

“Shut up! I can be responsible. Sometimes.”

“Why are you spending so much time at the gym, anyway?” She traced a finger down his front, voice taking on a suggestive tone that stroked his ego beautifully. “You seem perfectly fit to me.”

“I need to work on my endurance, I’m used to short intense bursts of exercise.”

“But… Why?”

He coughed and averted his eyes a little. “The local fire and rescue service is hiring. Thought I might apply.”

There was a long pause as she looked at him, brow furrowed. He’d been a bit nervous about telling her because— well, it would be dangerous work, and she had a tendency to worry—

Instead, though, she sighed and curled back up against his chest. “Can’t be worse than fighting. At least people are trying to keep you safe this time. Is there an exam?”

It was strange to have her approve of something that he was doing, but he liked it— he could get used to it. “Some basic maths.”

She grinned up at him. “I’ll help you revise.”

“Oh joy,” he murmured dryly, pressing a kiss against the soft and sweet-smelling waves of her hair as she laughed.  

“It’ll be just like being teenagers again.”

“Nah,” he disagreed, resting back again and getting comfortable, determined to enjoy the rest of the afterglow. “This is much better.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name: Hrotsvitha. Occupation: Bad Poet. Will write porn for Validation(TM).


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's, like, references to other partners and a sort of discussion of things that they did with others in this chapter while they're getting it on. That seems to really bother some readers. This is your warning.
> 
> Also we continue to barrel in a dom/sub direction, so there's that.

The Tube was packed as Evie crowded in, squishing herself against the doors. Her misshapen backpack awkwardly crushed against her legs, carrying her notes and her high heels, now swapped out for sensible sneakers. They could make her feel bad if she didn’t wear them to the new job, but they couldn’t force her to keep them on for the commute.

Not that she should complain. She was lucky to have gotten the post so fast, the people were kind, and it certainly paid handsomely. If they wanted her to dress to a slightly higher standard than she used to when she was teaching— well, that was industry.

Thomas was happily sprawled in the sitting room floor when she got home, papers scattered around him and crayons in hand. Assorted shapes were scribbled out in an array of colours, each less decipherable than the last.

She crouched down to ruffle his hair. “Hey monkey, good day at nursery?”

He nodded without looking up, adding blue scribbles to a yellow spider web of colour.

“Where’s your uncle?”

Thomas swirled his crayon, looking focused. “He left.”

Evie frowned. That was strange. Tonight was Movie Night, a routine that they’d worked up over the past few months. Jacob didn’t work on Wednesdays, so he would pick up Thomas from nursery and spend the afternoon with him, and then the three of them would watch a movie on the couch after supper. Sometimes Mother would join in, making popcorn for a delighted Thomas.

She found Mother in the garden, kneeling over a row of half-planted geraniums. “Mother, did Jacob go?”

Mother gently patted down another layer of dirt. “He did— was in a terrible mood, I’m not sure why. He wouldn’t say.”

That wasn’t very reassuring. Evie wandered back inside and changed out of her work things, fiddling with her mobile as she did so. No texts. When she tried to call him, it went straight to voicemail.

In her jogging gear, she poked her head out the back door again. “I’m going for a run, keep an eye on Thomas?”

Mother made a vaguely affirmative noise as she gently worked in another bulb.

Water bottle in hand, Evie set out towards Jacob’s flat.

\---

He didn’t answer the door when she knocked. Undeterred, she fished out her key and let herself in. As soon as she got inside, she could hear the dull sound of the television in the background. “Jacob?”

No answer.

When she went through, she found that he was glaring at the screen, can of beer in hand. One, two, three empty and crushed beer cans were lined up on the low table next to his propped up feet.

She hadn’t seen him like this since— since, well, before she had left in the first place. “Jacob, what the hell?”

Without looking over, Jacob lobbed a piece of crumpled paper at her. “They’re celebrating _family_ in nursery this week. Tommy showed this to me on the way home.”

Eyebrows raised in disbelief, Evie smoothed the paper out. Three blotchy figures were drawn in rough crayon; to the left, she recognized Thomas’s version of herself, with wiry black hair that stuck out from her head and wobbly circles of glasses on her face. In the middle, there was Thomas, drawn in with a big smile that made her heart sing and his stuffed horse— presumably— in his hand. On the right… Evie’s heart sank. Where the other two figures were drawn in a dark pink, like they had spent too long in the sun, the figure on the right was drawn in a chocolate brown, with black hair on his head and his chin. An innocuous scribble of lines, and the source of Jacob’s dark mood.

She sighed. “Did he say…”

“Oh yeah.” Jacob swirled his beer. “He said that all of his friends were drawing their _daddies_ , but that he didn’t have one. Then he asked me why he didn’t have one. Before I could recover from _that_ , he told me that he misses _Jay_ and that he hopes Jay moves here soon. Apparently, he’s been assuming that Jay would be coming along this whole time.”

Folding the paper slowly, she moved to sit down on the couch beside him. “You mustn’t take this too personally, you know. He’s a child, and his moods are as changeable as the wind.”

Jacob just seemed to sink deeper into the couch.

“And he adores you, you know that. I can barely get him to go to sleep at night because he refuses to take that silly children’s firefighter helmet off without ten minutes of wheedling. I always have to explain that _you_ don’t sleep in your helmet, no matter how very cool it is.”

That earned a twitch of a smile. But it was quickly erased by tightening lines on his face as he swigged back the rest of the beer and crushed the can against his knee. “Well pardon me for not being thrilled to think about some other man raising my kid all these years.”

“It wasn’t…” She closed her eyes. “It really wasn’t like that, I promise. It was never that serious.” It had certainly been easy enough to break off. One phone call— in between phone calls cancelling her lease and arranging for someone to pack hers and Thomas’s things and ship them to England— had done the trick. “I didn’t want anything serious.”

Jacob abruptly leaned forward and she found herself almost shying away from the dark edge in his face. “But he was still seeing Tommy. And still fucking you.”

She didn’t have to put up with that sort of double standard. “You weren’t exactly being celibate yourself, if you’ll recall.”

“He wasn’t the same.”

“How on _earth_ is it different?”

“No, I don’t mean…” His fingers came up to ghost along her chin. “I was never jealous about him.”

“Sorry?”

“He used to see other people.” Jacob shrugged. “Didn’t bother me. Sometimes he even brought others along for things with us—”

“ _What?_ ”

“— but it was fine, never phased me.” He talked straight through her disbelief, gaze a bit unfocused, alcohol clearly having an effect on his thought process. “But I think about you being with other people and it makes me feel fucking sick.”

That, at least, she understood. She reached up and covered his hand with her own. “I can’t make it un-happen.”

“No.” He slumped forward against her shoulder, lurching a little. “No, and it fucking sucks. I know you had to go and I know it's my fault, I just... I just wish I’d been there for Tommy. For you. I wish you hadn’t hidden him from me.”

She vaguely thought about pointing out that when she left, she had told Jacob that if she didn’t hear from him, she would assume things were over; the onus had been on him and he hadn’t bothered. But it felt like kicking a man when he was down. “I’m sorry.”

His fingers abruptly tangled in the soft hairs at the base of her neck and there was a breath of hot air against her skin as he rasped. “You should be. Still pissed when I think about it too much.”

Putting a hand gently to his shoulder, she drew back, looking him straight in the eye. “You know my reasons, and I’m not the only one to blame. But…” She swallowed at his steady gaze, a curl of heat forming in her abdomen. “If you think a bit of bullying would make you feel better about the whole thing…” It had always been an integral part of their fights when they had lived together, given that she generally won the arguments; she got the satisfaction of being right, he regained a bit of dignity by being in charge for a bit, and everyone walked away happy. It had worked, for the most part.

There was a long moment when he stared, nostrils flaring slightly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“No?”

“I’m pretty furious. Not feeling very friendly.”

Maybe one day, she’d be able to work out why that made her stomach do flips. For now, she leaned back into him and gave him a long kiss, trying not to scrunch her nose too much at the taste of the alcohol. When she drew away, she gently touched her fingers to his lips. “Do your worst.”

\---

Jacob sobered up with a shower and Movie Night went ahead after all. Tommy selected something with dancing penguins and hopped around the living room as the movie went on, making up his own little routines. Mother had left for some sort of knitting group, so Tommy gorged on some of the cake she had put out for him as he danced, wiggling back and forth.

Evie wasn’t so relaxed.

Every time the music would get louder, she would shrink a little further into the blankets. Because as the sound in the room climbed, Jacob— sitting with his mobile, slouched on the other end of the couch— would tap something out and the buzzing between her legs would grow.

She couldn’t— she couldn’t let it go any further, but then she _had_ gone ahead and told him to do his worst, and backing out now felt like such a defeat. That couldn’t happen. She'd just blinked at him when he passed her the toy, but she'd accepted the challenges, and damn it, she wouldn't back down. 

So she took a deep and shaky breath as the vibrating climbed and dipped yet again, crossing and uncrossing her legs to try and ease the ache. Each time she looked up, Jacob would be staring at her with an intensity that was enough to make her heart beat so hard that she thought it would burst out of her chest, so loud that she was sure that the others could hear it.

Under the blanket, he would occasionally reach down and massage her feet, rubbing the arch hard enough coax little happy groans from her unwilling throat. Even though it was the most innocent of touches, it only intensified that heat, making her want to curl into a ball and shake until she went numb.

The movie seemed to go on forever, and it was with nearly-panting relief that she watched the credits come on. Maybe there had been some sort of plot; she had no idea. She hadn’t been paying attention.

Jacob stood easily, swooping Tommy up as he shrieked happily. “C’mon, little man, bed time.”

And without any further ado, they left the room.

Lying there alone, she found her hand inching towards the waistband of her jeans. She’d said she wouldn’t. But then, this was unbearable, and she just wanted to reposition it a bit so that she could properly finish. For what could’ve been an age, she lay there agonizing, trying to decide, hand hovering over her abdomen. Surely if she was quick, surely if she just—

She flinched around and nearly jumped a foot in the air when the door creaked open and Jacob walked back in, a smile slowly unfolding across his face. “What were _you_ doing?”

“Nothing,” she immediately blurted.

“Looked to me like you were about to break a rule.”

Shit. “You were taking too long.”

He chuckled and settled over her, pressing his knee against the cleft of her legs as she whimpered. “I didn’t realize you weren’t kidding about Tommy needing to be talked out of wearing the helmet to bed.”

For a moment, she was able to focus through the haze and smile at him. “I told you, he adores you.”

“And you?” He dipped his head and pressed a warm kiss to her neck. “Do you adore me?”

“Of course,” she mumbled, reaching up to wrap her arms around him, “of co—”

He interrupted her by nipping at the shell of her ear. “What was it that you said all those weeks ago when you jumped on me?” His hands traced the curve of her breasts through her shirt and she moaned. “Something about fucking you in the bathroom?”

Bathroom, yes, there were locks on the door there, what a _marvellous_ idea, she could finally strip out of all these _clothes_ and let him touch her and wouldn’t that be just divine— she wriggled and tried to stand, but he kept her pinned tightly in place. It was frustrating enough that she even tried to lurch forward and bite him back, but he leaned out of reach with a grin.

“Feral, much?” The hand was moving under her shirt now, stroking her stomach, and her skin was aflame. “Why should I do that for you?”

Because she would explode if he didn’t. “Because I know you want to?”

“Mmm,” he rocked his head back and forth, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, heady and musky. “Because I want you to.”

“More like it. Up you get.”

They stumbled awkwardly out of the room and she numbly followed him up the stairs. A bit confused, she stood in the doorway as he pulled the shower on before reaching around her, closing the door and locking it with a click. “Sound cover.”

Oh, right. That was smart. She swallowed and the movement felt too dry on her parched mouth, her legs squeezing together against the pressure of the vibrator, now humming at a low pace. Finally able to move like she wanted, she went to unbutton her jeans, but he gave her a look that made her slowly put her hands back at her sides.

“Now.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “What to do?”

A bit nervously, she walked up to him, putting her hands on his chest. “You know, when you said you were feeling mean, I really just thought you were going to— I don’t know, spank me for a bit or something.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “There are different kinds of mean. I like this one. And so do you.” Damn him, if he wasn’t right. “Besides, I still haven’t ruled out a spanking. Maybe not today, though. Noise.”

She closed her eyes at that and took another deep breath at the thought, anticipation gnawing at her as he finally started moving forwards, taking steps that crowded her backwards against the sink.

With steady hands, he turned her around so that she was facing the mirror and unbuttoned her jeans, tugging the fabric down along with her knickers; when she went to try and lift her shirt, his hands snapped to her wrists. “Nope. Just in case we need to get out of here in a hurry.”

Right. Good thing one of them was thinking clearly. She tensed a little when she heard the click of his own trousers, followed the nudge of something hot and heavy against her thigh; in a series of quick movements, he withdrew the vibrator and braced her against the sink, and suddenly she was _full_ of him, so gloriously full and she was near ready to cry from relief.

Perhaps his mood had eased and the teasing was the extent of it. It didn’t seem to match the intensity from earlier, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain.

She tensed happily when one hand covered her mouth and the other slid down her front, giving practiced little swirling motions around her clit. Oh, with all the teasing, it wouldn’t take but a moment, she could feel it building at the base of her spine—

He stopped.

Oh no, no, _no_. She wriggled against him, but the hand at her mouth effectively held her firm, the stroke of his cock torturously slow as he withdrew and then snapped forward with force. Each time he rocked up into her, she bore back down, trying to encourage more friction, but he wouldn’t pick up the pace.

Giving up, she sagged back down again, beginning to rock with his movements instead. But once again, his hand crept forward and she lost herself in in those small strokes, edging closer and closer, and she was so damned close that she could almost scream—

Until he stopped.

The tears of frustration were beginning to build, half agony and half pleasure. In an abrupt movement, Jacob yanked a towel off the rack nearby and scrubbed at the mirror over her shoulder, clearing away the condensation and bringing her desperate face into view.

She immediately scrunched her eyes shut, trying not to look, twitching again when he chuckled darkly in her ear. “Oh sweetheart, is something wrong?”

There was no point in making a noise, he wouldn’t hear anything past his hand. It was either snapping or nothing. And like _hell_ was she going to snap to safeword out of this.

“I thought this was what you wanted? Just like you said— against the sink, hand over mouth, all of it.”

The third time his hand nudged her close to completion and then disappeared, she was fairly certain that she was going to forget how to breathe. Every inch of her was _screaming_ for a chance to finish, and she was starting to genuinely think that he wasn’t going to let it happen at all. Her mouth opened as she tried to rasp in a lungful of air and his hand moved, two fingers suddenly pressing down against her tongue and holding her mouth open. All the while, the slow strokes continued torturously, too much and not enough all at once, his hips rocking up against her behind.

“So, tell me,” he continued, and even though his voice was mild, there was just that slight edge that made her clench her eyes shut even tighter. The hand that kept teasing her slid under her shirt, then down her front, then against the front of her thighs. “I’m sure that he touched all this, but I think it was pretty forgettable compared to what you get with me.”

Even though the cocky words, she could hear the undercurrent of insecurity. She nodded as much as she could with her jaw starting to ache around his fingers, even cracking open her eyes a bit to try and convey her sincerity.

“But my question is…” The hand moved to her back, sliding down until it curved against her behind and found the tight puckered hole of her ass. “Did you share this too?”

She froze on the spot and rocked her head back and forth, eyes flying open and watching him behind her. She couldn’t even remember to be embarrassed that she could see herself, open mouth and overbright eyes and all. At some point, she’d started crying, and she wasn’t even sure when it had happened.

“Really.” He sounded pleased, like it was the answer he’d wanted. “That’s good to know.”

The blunt and slow intrusion of a finger was enough to make her gurgle from her throat, wriggling frantically. When he started to move his hips again, it was faster, almost what she wanted but not quite, and she gurgled again when there was the addition of a second slick finger— oh, it _burned_ , it had been an age and a day since anyone had touched her there, but she wouldn’t back out. Not now. The pain just made her want to curl her toes, so very close to pleasure that she was starting to not be able to tell them apart.

His voice was starting to shake, and her brain distantly and smugly approved of the fact that she was affecting him too. “Would you like to come?”

The sound she made wasn’t quite a _yes_ , but it was as close as she could manage with fingers against her tongue.

“To do that, I’m going to have to let go of your mouth.” The strokes were speeding and his tone slid from shaky to ragged, and she could tell she didn’t have a lot of time. “You’re going to have to be quiet. Can you even do that?”

Her neck was starting to ache from the speed of her nodding. Jacob’s hand dropped and she frantically brought her own palm to her mouth, trying to prevent the keening that was desperately trying to escape.

“You,” he breathed, breath hot against her neck, “will have me as your first and last, do you understand?”

She pulled her hand away from her mouth just a fraction of an inch, enough to whisper “yes, yes, please, he was never as good, no one was, please—”

With a satisfied groan, his hand slid back down her front again, this time with a sense of purpose that made her want to weep with anticipation. Just as she started to clench down against his cock, panting with each stroke as he rolled his fingers against her clit, she had to stifle a scream when she felt a _third_ finger push in from behind—

It took absolutely every ounce of her considerable self-control to bite down against her knuckles and not make a sound as it hit, the dig of her teeth so rough that she tasted the tang of blood. Her legs felt like jelly, the long-built up orgasm rolling through her whole abdomen, each ensuing stroke so sensitive that it was nearly painful. Nearly. Not quite. Just that perfect _nearly_. It felt like he was everywhere, and it was maddening and perfect and she really _hadn't_ ever had this with anyone else. 

As it eased, it was the best she could do to drop her hands and grip the edge of the counter until her fingers went white, holding her ground as his pace went from measured to furious. The hand that had so cleverly torn her apart lurched up to brace around her throat, bending her back against him until she could feel his panting against her cheek, his low moan directly in her ear when he finally shuddered and stilled, the last few strokes so fierce that she couldn't help but gasp and pray that the shower would cover the sound. 

On shaky hands, she tried to support his weight as he finally let go of her and sagged against her shoulder, softening inside her as warmth dripped down her thighs and his fingers slowly slid away. Even though the mirror had completely fogged up once more, she could vaguely see his dark form behind hers. Through ragged breaths, she tried to crane around and look at him. “Feeling better about things?”

“Getting there,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOODIES: 
> 
> Another [**awesome Axeman playlist!**](http://saintvire.tumblr.com/post/157776100696/ill-admit-that-im-a-fool-for-you-because-youre) (whooooo) 
> 
> AND another [**excellent Vaniri picture**](https://poethrotsvitha.tumblr.com/post/157744156790/vaniri-little-french-frye-for), this time at my request. It's Tommy's first Halloweeeeeeen and HE'S A FRENCH FRYE <3 <3 <3 She even drew his hair curly like I always imagine it. So goddamn cute y'all are the best.


	15. Chapter 15

Ned showed up on Jacob’s doorstep bearing an arm full of brightly wrapped boxes. He arrived exactly at the agreed time— as he always did— dressed in a sharp suit and looking extremely out of place among Jacob’s mishmash of furniture. Not that the clothing fooled Jacob. Ned was just as much of a delinquent as ever, even if he now could pass for a respectable member of society.

Leaning down a bit, Jacob accepted the boxes with a frown. “What's all this?”

“Gifts from the home country, of course. Couldn’t come back empty handed.”

At the dining room table, Jacob opened the first of them, revealing a massive American flag that was bigger than his entire arm-span. “Are you serious? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

“Consider it my contribution to your house warming. I recommend hanging it above your bed.” Ned sat in one of the chairs and hooked his ankles up on the table, folding his hands in his lap. “Now, what does a man have to do to get a cup of tea around here? I’ve been dying for one, Americans have no idea of how the fuck to make a proper brew.”

“I’m very well, thank you for asking, Jesus.” Shoving the flag back in the box and grinning broadly, Jacob went to put the kettle on.

One they had two cups of tea set out on the table, Ned awkwardly cleared his throat. “Heard about your Father, by the way. Was sorry to hear it.”

Twiddling his thumbs against his mug, Jacob shrugged as casually as he could. “We weren’t really close.”

“Even so. Roth never seemed the chatty type, so if you ever need to talk—”

“We’re not together any more, actually.”

There was a pause and Ned’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. “Is that so? You _have_ been busy. That why you moved?”

With a sigh, Jacob slouched back in his chair and slowly bobbed his head. “Part of the reason, yeah.”

“You the dumper or the dumpee?”

“You always had such a delicate way with words, you know that? Your opponents must break down in tears in court when faced with that sort of mastery of the English language. It’s a marvel.”

That earned a smile from Ned. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I was the dumper. Kind of woke up to the fact that he was a fucking psychopath.”

Ned snorted. “Only took you, what, eight years longer than the rest of us? I always wondered how good he had to be in bed for you to put up with—”

“I am _not_ discussing that with you.” 

Exceedingly daintily, Ned took a sip from his glass. “If you insist. How’s that going with the job, then? Can’t be easy, seeing him all the time.”

“I also quit.”

At that, Ned physically put his cup down and gave Jacob a long and even look. “Jesus, I was only gone for six months. And— to recap— your Father died, you moved house, quit your job, and broke up with your boyfriend. Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Only if I plan on dying at 60.”

“A two-fifths-life-crisis, then. Anything else I should know about?”

Jacob exhaled slowly, staring into his tea. “Evie’s back.”

“From India?”

“No, from Mars. Of course from India.”

“Wow. How is she?”

“Well, I have a nephew.”

Ned's mouth fell open a fraction and he stared across the table blankly for a few beats before he slowly raised his fingers and started absently drumming them against the wood. “Wow. _Wow_.”

“Yeah. Thomas. Cute kid. They’ve moved in with Mother.”

“This is blowing my mind. How old is he?”

“Four.”

“Jesus Christ, and you only just found out?”

And that isn’t the half of it, Jacob found himself thinking grimly. “We hadn’t talked in a while.”

“Right, the famous fight. Are you ever going to tell any of us what that was about? Surely you can, now that she’s back and you’re apparently talking?”

Nope. “Don’t hold your breath. I’d really rather not think about it.”

“Fine. What about the Dad, he here too?”

Another discussion that he wouldn’t be having any time soon. “Long out of the picture, apparently.”

Ned let out a low whistle. “That’s wild. Just wild.” He grinned. “I’ll always think of her as that sweet bossy kid from primary. Little Evie, all grown up.”

He remembered that girl too, with cute little pigtails and a vicious left hook. “You do realize she’s our age.”

“I know, but even so. Wait, hang on.” With a twist of his neck, Ned’s brow furrowed. “This goes back a bit, but I’m still catching up here— if you’re not working, how are you affording this place?”

“Well—”

“Do you want me to put a good word in for you at the firm?”

The suggestion was distracting enough that Jacob lost his train of thought. “The hell does a law firm need an ex-bouncer for?”

“We’re always looking for good in-house investigators. You’re certainly smart enough, even if you don't look it.”

Would wonders never cease. “In-house investigators? What _for?_ ”

“Investigating. And every now and then…” He cocked his head and shot him a meaningful look. “Other things, as the need arises.”

“Your business is shady as shit, Wynert.”

“What’s life without a little spice.”

Jacob was fairly certain that Wynert’s version of ‘spice’ involved a lot of extremely dubious backroom dealings and underworld negotiations. “And besides, I have a new job. With the fire and rescue service.”

Ned grinned at that. “My god, you must be getting _so_ laid.”

Jacob took a thoughtful sip of his tea. “I do all right.”

\---

Somewhere, somehow, Tommy had got a hold of Evie’s hair bands. And at the moment, he was in the process of carefully tying the fourth one into Jacob’s hair as Jacob reclined on the couch, giving him the strange appearance of a creature who had multiple tentacles sprouting from his head.

Ah well. Jacob could think of worse things. Tommy had been in a particularly belligerent mood all evening, and at least this was keeping him occupied. Dinner had been enough of a battle, with Jacob eventually conceding defeat when it came to forcing Tommy to eat his peas. Kid was as stubborn as— well, as himself, but also as Evie. A potent combination.  

Wincing at yet another sharp tug from small hands, Jacob pulled out his mobile and fiddled with it until Evie’s chat screen opened up. _hows the thing going_

 _Boring_ , the response came quickly. _I’m hiding in the back and on my mobile so I don’t have to talk to anyone. I don’t even know why I’m here._

_y r u there then?_

_You know the drill. New job. Ought to show my face._

Tommy finished with another clump of hair and started on the next one. _tommy is doing a makeover 4 me_

_I beg your pardon?_

He snapped a selfie and sent it along.

The response was immediate. _Oh my god._

Jacob grinned at his phone. _so handsome rite_

_You take my breath away._

_if i was there i could actually take ur breath away_

_Hush_. He could see her blush in his mind’s eye. _This is awkward enough as it is._

_hope ur planning on staying in that dress 4 a bit when u get home_

_You’re kind of a pervert, did you know that?_

_i do yes_

_Aren’t you, I don’t know, kind of embarrassed about it?_

_not 1 bit_. He glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. _its bedtime for my stylist, c u when u get home_

\---

The front door clicked open a bit earlier than Jacob expected. It couldn't be Mother, she wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow. He raised his head from the couch cushions, turning the volume down on _Antiques Roadshow_ and relaxing once he recognized Evie's footsteps.

She poked her head into the living room with a smile. “Hey.”

“Didn’t expect you for a while.”

“I ducked out. I hate those things. And I hate having to be so fancy.” She tugged at the hem of her intricate dress. “Infernal contraption.”

Jacob laced his fingers behind his head and grinned. “You should come over here and let me help you out of it, then.”

With a mock-stern point, she narrowed her eyes. “We have done far more of that in this house than we ought to already. You _will_ wait until date night, mister, I’m serious.”

“Fine, fine.” He shifted up and patted the cushion next to him. “Go get some PJs and we can just put on some stupid movie, then. I vote something action packed from the 90’s.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “And you’ll behave?”

Rocking his head back and forth, he tried to look as thoughtful as he could. “Might fondle your boobs a bit, but otherwise, I’ll be as good as gold.”

She laughed as she disappeared upstairs, and he pulled up Netflix to flick through the options, trying to decide. He was halfway through the “Jackie Chan” selection when there was a piercing wail from upstairs.

Getting up with a frown, he jogged to the first floor. It wasn’t like Tommy to have problems in the middle of the night, not since the first few nights of getting settled in the new house.

When he reached the door, Evie was already sitting on Tommy’s bed, stroking his hair. “Shhh, Monkey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just a bad dream.”

“N—no,” Tommy blubbered, nose running freely. “It wasn’t a dream, he was _there_.”

Jacob walked slowly to the bed, sitting down and giving Tommy’s back a bracing pat. After a few minutes of digging around in the covers, he found the stuffed horse and passed it to Tommy, who wrapped his arms around the animal and buried his face against it. “Listen to your Mum, Tommy. She’s a smart lady.”

“He was there,” Tommy repeated, voice muffled by his toy. “Just like he’s sometimes there at nursery.”

Both he and Evie fell silent. When she spoke, Evie sounded like she was trying not to appear too urgent or panicked— so as not to frighten Tommy, no doubt— but Jacob could see the way her shoulders had grown completely stiff. “Who is, Monkey?”

Tommy just shook his head against his doll.

Jacob leaned forward and gently put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Tommy? What does this man look like? Can you tell us? It’s okay, you’re not in trouble.”

Face still against his horse, Tommy’s words were hard to understand, but Jacob followed the gist of it. “His hair is dark, and his face has an ow on it.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe. “His face is hurt? Where?”

Evie went deadly pale as Tommy finally lifted his head, putting his hand against Jacob’s cheek, tracing a pattern that exactly followed the path of Roth’s jagged scar.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the [**Incest Yay Shipping**](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/IncestYayShipping) tv tropes page: 
> 
> _There's also a good chance that you have repelled, or otherwise alienated a good part of the fandom—but if the fandom is big enough, there's a chance you'll find like-minded company anyway._


	16. Chapter 16

The first thing she did was phone the police.

Unfortunately, they weren’t a great deal of help. They listened attentively, yes, but with only the word of a four-year old to go on, they gently suggested that perhaps he had been imagining things. Evie knew that he wasn’t, of course, but she had no proof.

The next step was to phone the nursery, hoping that someone else had seen Roth skulking around. Unfortunately, the head teacher had no recollection of any incidents, and her survey of the staff found the same. Without any concrete evidence to go on, Evie promptly found herself at a bit of a dead end.

Jacob suggested pulling Thomas out of nursery entirely. He even offered to quit his job and keep an eye on their son instead. But Evie didn't want the boy to live in fear, and she didn’t want Jacob’s life obliterated. That felt like letting Roth win, somehow.

And that was the last thing that she could stand.

All the same, she went over basic safety issues with Tommy the next evening, sitting in the living room and building towers of out of blocks together as they chatted. “Monkey, what do you say if a stranger asks you to go with them?”

Face focused, Thomas stacked the next block on a structure now almost as tall as his head. “No.”

"And then if they try to make you?" 

"I yell HELP," he said, actually yelling the word and throwing his arms out. "HELP ME I DON'T KNOW THIS PERSON." 

“That’s right. And what do you say if someone you don’t know tries to give you sweets, or crisps, or ice cream or anything else?”

Thomas slammed a block down on the floor emphatically. “No!”

“And what if someone tells you that they have a present for you?”

He sing-songed his answer. “No, no, no.”

Evie stacked another block and bit back a sigh. He seemed to have the concept down, anyway. It would have to do.

\---

It was a Wednesday afternoon at the tail end of her lunch break when Evie’s mobile vibrated against the table, a picture of Jacob and Tommy asleep on the couch filling the screen.

“Hey you, what's-”

“Evie.” Jacob’s voice was a serious snap. “You need to go to the nursery, now. We just had a call about a fire.”

Her heart froze. She suddenly realised that she could hear the wailing of a siren in the background; he had to be in the emergency response vehicle. “A _what_?”

“A fire at the building, they're evacuating the kids. Go get Tommy. My team is on its way there now, but I'll have to be focused on the fire.” Someone shouted something indistinctly in the background and Jacob pulled away from the phone for a second to yell back. It took a few moments before his voice was back and sharp over the line. “Got to go, okay? I'll see you there.”

Without another word, Evie kicked off her heels and sprinted through the office in her stockinged bare feet, past confused colleagues and through the foyer of the building until she was on the street and flagging down a cab.

She spent the whole ride with her head down against her knees. She didn’t believe in praying, not exactly, but she kept chanting the same phrase over and over: _please keep Thomas safe. Please keep Thomas safe. Please keep Thomas safe._

The shrill sound of the emergency vehicles became audible before she could see the nursery, and she nearly threw her fare at the cab driver before running towards the front of the building.

There was a degree of organized chaos going on, with the teachers maintaining a commendable degree of control in the face of the smoke billowing out of the windows. Everyone was standing at a good distance from the building itself, the children all poking each other and pointing at the fire with excited squawking.

It took a few seconds to locate Thomas’s teacher, a soft spoken woman who wore extremely round glasses. “Miss Wight!”

Miss Wight looked up with some degree of surprise. “Miss Frye? What are you—”

Skidding to a stop in front of her, asphalt rough against her bare feet, Evie blurted out her main concern. “Where’s Thomas?”

“Not to worry, he’s right with us, he was here for roll call when we left the building.” Miss Wight looked over the small group of children. “Thomas?”

No small voice called back, and Evie started to distinctly feel like she was going to throw up.

Miss Wight was frowning now. “Thomas? Children, have you seen Thomas?”

Even though there was a fair bit of noise going on around them, the children in the class all obediently looked around, as if confirming that the other small person next to them hadn’t changed into Thomas while they weren’t paying attention. One little boy stuck his hand in the air.

“Daniel?”

“He uh, he tied my, helped me tie my shoes, when we were moving from there,” the boy pointed to a spot a bit closer to the school, “to here, when my shoes, my shoelaces got all tangled because I stepped on them.”  

“Have you seen him since then?”

A crowd of little faces all shook their heads solemnly.

Miss Wight now looked as pale as Evie felt. “I have to— I have to get the head teacher.” She frantically waved over the next adult and conveyed that they should keep an eye on her group of children before she ran off, leaving Evie slightly swaying on the ground.

She could not lose her composure now. She had to keep focused. Perhaps Thomas had just ducked around a corner somewhere and was playing with a rock he’d found, or had accidentally wandered into a different group of children. He was going to pop up any minute now, chubby cheeks smiling broadly, waving at her with some small prize in his hand—

“Miss Frye?” Miss Wight was back, another older woman in tow. “This is our head teacher, Mrs. Sorrell.”

Mrs. Sorrell took Evie’s hand. “We’ve spoken on the phone, of course. Given your previous concerns, I’ve already phoned the police. I need you to wait here while I go from teacher to teacher, and I will inform the fire services as well. We know that he left the building.” Mrs. Sorrell tapped the piece of paper she was holding against a clipboard. “He was present for role-call and no one could have gone back in, we barred the doors.”

In that moment, Evie had the fleeting thought that she wasn’t sure what was better: Thomas trapped in the building, or Thomas having been carried off by Roth. For this had to be Roth. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

As the head teacher began her inspection of all the groups of children, Evie tried to keep the panic at bay. She watched as the firefighters trailed hoses in and out of the building, the fire clearly gradually disappearing. Jacob would be among them somewhere, but with all the bulky gear and helmets, she couldn’t tell which one was him.

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“Miss Frye?” Evie opened her eyes and found that the head teacher was back, with a man in uniform trailing behind. “This is Inspector Abberline, he's come from the local precinct. I’m afraid that Thomas doesn’t seem to be with the other children.”

“Ma’am,” the inspector began solemnly. “I’ll need to take down some information.”  

Numbly, Evie responded to everything that the Inspector needed. Thomas’s birthdate— or at least, the one on his passport— his weight and height, his nicknames. Her own contact information, a mobile number and where she could be reached. A description of the clothing that she had put Thomas in this morning, his favourite blue shirt and little black sneakers. At the Inspector’s urging, she pulled out her mobile and found a recent photo of Thomas, grinning toothily up at the camera. Obeying his instructions, she attached it to an email and sent it to the address that the Inspector spelled out for her slowly. Would— would this photo be put on a board in a police room? Would it have to go up in neighbourhoods? She was going to be sick. Would it—

“Evie? What- where are your shoes?”

It was Jacob, still in his uniform, helmet under his arm, hair sticking up in every which way and a sheen of sweat and soot across his skin. He looked exhausted. Wide eyed, she blinked at this apparition, before remembering that she had known he was here, had been looking for him less than ten minutes ago.  

Jacob’s neck snapped towards the Inspector. “What’s going on? Where’s Thomas?”

The Inspector paused from scribbling his notes. “You would be…”

“Uncle,” Jacob said, before pointing at Evie. “Brother.”

Evie slowly craned her neck around, voice hoarse. “Thomas is missing. No one can find him.”

All of the colour drained from Jacob’s face. “ _What?_ ”

The Inspector cut in. “We’re collecting information right now, so we can get started on sending a team out to look for him straightaway—”

“I know where you need to look,” Jacob hissed, the plastic of his helmet creaking dangerously as he tensed his arms. “You need to look for Maxwell _fucking_ Roth.”

“This would be the stalker?”

Evie blinked at him slowly, and the head teacher— who was still standing there, Evie had almost forgotten— spoke up. “I gave him the information that we had gathered about your complaint, Miss Frye.”

The Inspector tapped his pen against his notebook. “We will definitely be speaking to him first thing. Do you have an address?”

Jacob provided it through gritted teeth while Evie stared at her feet, mind whirling. She had to help. She had to keep control so she could help—

“—if you could please go home,” the Inspector was saying, “and stay there just for the time being.”

Jacob’s reaction was furious. “Are you fucking serious? No, of course we need to look for him too, we need to help—”

“That is highly inadvisable, Mr. Frye. I very much recommend that your sister take the time to eat something and possibly lie down.”

Jacob’s head snapped around, and at some point, Evie realized that she had reached up and wrapped her hand in some of the sleeve above his elbow, clinging tightly like a child. His face immediately grew more solemn and he nodded, as if she could possibly eat anything or lie down in this moment. As if that was an option.

“I also need you to go home as there may be a ransom call. Please contact us right away if it happens. Miss Frye, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Evie responded distantly, but it felt like someone else was talking. A ransom call? Why would anyone want a ransom? She didn’t have anything worth taking, her little pocket of savings hardly a lure, there was nothing that she had that anyone should want—

“Come on, Evie.” It was Jacob’s hands braced against her shoulders, gradually guiding her towards the street. If he shared her panic, he was doing an excellent job of keeping it at bay, his voice steady and modulated. The mark of someone who routinely worked in high stress situations, she thought dimly, struck afresh by how it was still disorienting that she could rely on him to be steady. “I’ll call a cab and tell my team I’m going home. He’s right in that you need to get out of here.”

\---

She rode home in a daze, leaning against Jacob’s shoulder. Jacob was on the phone, talking to someone— Mother, it had to be Mother, he was explaining what had happened. She would have to know.

Evie was numb, mind curiously blank. But the moment that they walked through the garden and into the house— Thomas’s toys scattered over the floor and his bed empty, his noisy chatter conspicuously absent— the whole ordeal became too terrifyingly real.

Having somewhat successfully held it together for the rest of the afternoon, Evie finally broke down. Losing the strength in her legs, she sank into the couch, sobbing deep and gasping breaths into her hands as Jacob hovered anxiously, clearly torn about not being able to comfort her the way he wanted to with Mother present.

Mother, for her part, immediately settled down on the couch and wrapped Evie in her arms. She began to gently stroke her back, over and over and over, the motion repetitive and soothing. “It's going to be all right, dear. The police will find him. Everything is going to be all right. You just need to stay strong, just for a little bit more, everything is going to be all ri- Jacob? Where are you going?”

Bleary eyed, Evie looked up to find that Jacob was putting on his coat in jerking movements, eyes drawn into dangerous slits. “Out.”

“But-”

“Going to find Roth,” he ground out, yanking the door open. “And beat the truth out of him.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I'm sorry did you forget that this fic is a tropey heap of trash


	17. Chapter 17

Jacob was most of the way out to his bike and putting on his helmet when he suddenly realized that he had no goddamn idea of how to proceed.

The police would check Roth’s home. And the Alhambra, no doubt, for that matter. If Roth was willing to be found, they would find him. Which would mean that he’d presumably be sitting in a precinct and waiting to be interviewed, out of Jacob’s reach. And if he didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be in the obvious places.

Staring into space, Jacob racked his brains. How did you _look_ for someone? In a place as big as London, no less? Roth had underworld connections up to his eyeballs, and other than his association through Roth, Jacob knew next to nothing about that world—

Suddenly, with blinding clarity, he realized that _he_ didn’t know about it, but he _did_ know someone who did.

Tugging his glove off with his teeth, he reached for his mobile.

\---

Pulling up to the Alhambra, Jacob found the parking lot deserted except for a young woman propped up next to the back door. Dismounting, he had worked his helmet off when she called out to him. “You Jacob Frye?”

Getting closer, he could see that she looked to be in her mid-twenties, hair done in sensible plaits and in a dress that brushed her knees. “That’s me, yeah.”

“Excellent. Ned sent me.”

“You’re…” He squinted at her. She looked like he could reach out and snap her in half with minimal effort. “You’re not what I expected.”

She snorted and her Irish brogue got thicker. “What, you expected some bruiser? Well, here’s a clue— so do most people, and part of the job is not being what people expect.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “You can get us in?”

“Well, I don’t have a key any more…”

“But you’ll know the person in there.”

Presumably. He shrugged by way of response. “They’ll think it’s weird that I’ve dropped by, though.”

“Are you on bad terms?”

How to summarize this? “Boss is my ex. It was a bad break up, so I quit. No personal problem with the others.”

“Right.” She tapped her foot, little flats clicking against the pavement. “Then you’re dropping by as a personal favour to me, your very close personal friend. And in the meantime, take this-” she passed him a small usb port, “-stick it in the guy's computer, and wait until the little light turns green.”

He took it doubtfully. “Do I have to turn the computer on?”

“Yes, but nothing else. Don’t worry about passwords. Where's the office?”

"Upstairs."

"Got it." She straightened herself up and tugged the neckline of her dress a little bit further down. “Ready?”

“Ready for what? Wha- wait, what’s your name?”

She grinned at him, the gesture brightly false. “O’Dea. Clara O’Dea.” And without another moment of hesitation, she firmly rapped on the door.

It was Greg who answered, a familiar face. “We’re not op- oh, uh… Jacob? Hi. Um, Roth’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

Jacob barely managed a response before O’Dea rushed forward, almost knocking Greg over. “Oh thank _god_ you answered, I’m so sorry, I was here last night and I lost my ring and my parents are going to _kill me_ you _have_ to help me find it—”

“Uh,” Greg stuttered, clearly caught off guard, “well, I—”

O’Dea was full on blubbering now. “I couldn’t just call, because what if you didn’t answer, and thank god I remembered that Jacob used to work here— he said he would try and help— I really twisted his arm but you _have_ to understand, this ring was my _Nan’s_ , I can’t not have it, I have to look for it, I have to—”

“Okay, okay,” Greg said, panicked look rising as O’Dea’s words began to wobble, a clear indication of impending tears. “Come in, fine, you can look around.”

She had wrapped her fingers around his arm now. “I can’t see very well without my glasses, please, you have to help me—”

“Uh, right.” Standing and watching, Jacob found himself fighting the urge to laugh as Greg became more and more visibly uncomfortable. “Sure. Do you remember where you were?”

“I don’t really, I think I was over there,” she gestured vaguely, “but I think I remember going upstairs…”

That had to be Jacob’s cue. “To one of the private rooms? Were you invited by someone?”

“I don’t _remember_ ,” she wailed, finally breaking into torrential tears. "I'm _never drinking again,_ my parents aren't going to let me out until I'm _thirty._ " 

“I’ll check up there,” Jacob said to a highly nervous looking Greg, leaving him awkwardly patting O’Dea on the back as she sobbed against his shoulder.

It was a moment’s work to let himself into Roth’s office— it was never locked— and power up the computer, placing the little USB key in the port. A small light flickered on, glowing red against the plastic. Rubbing his hands together nervously, Jacob paced the room back and forth, ready to get out of the space as fast as possible. It _smelled_ like Roth. It made his stomach turn, now.

The process felt like it took an eternity, but the light finally switched to green. Turning the computer back off and quickly hustling out of the office, Jacob went back downstairs to find O’Dea and Greg both on their hands and knees, crawling around under tables.

O’Dea’s head immediately popped up. “Did you find it?”

“No,” he responded, while shooting her a subtle thumbs up.

Quick as a flash, she ducked back down, pointing out to a corner of the room. “Wait, I think I see something there?”

Greg shuffled over, and emerged triumphantly with a small ring held between his fingers. “I found it!”

“Oh!” O’Dea leapt her feet and threw her arms around him in a hug, practically kicking her feet up into the air. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She ended the words with a peck to his cheek, making Greg turn a delightful shade of red.

She kept up an endless stream of chatter about how pleased she was as they headed back to the exit, bright and bubbly and carefree as only a teenaged girl can be. As Jacob neared the door, he leaned backwards and muttered to Greg. “Thanks, mate. I’ve known her parents for ages— friends of the family, you know. They would’ve been super pissed, god knows I made enough bad decisions at that age.”

“Same," Greg replied, breaking into a sheepish grin. “And, uh... Tell her she’s welcome back here any time?” The blush from his cheeks hadn't entirely faded.   

Jacob faked his cheekiest grin and clapped the other man on the shoulder before letting his face fall, pointedly looking away. “And maybe don’t…” He coughed awkwardly. “Roth doesn’t need to know I was here, right? It’s been so awkward already.”

Greg looked sympathetic. “No worries, man. Haven’t seen him for a few days anyway.”

It was blessed relief to finally leave the dark building and the smell of alcohol, emerging into grey skies and threatening rain. When Jacob reached O’Dea in the parking lot, she was tucking the ring away and expertly tidying her smudged mascara, movements efficient and controlled.

He opened his mouth to say— something, he wasn’t sure— a thank you? A comment about being impressed? A question about whether she keeps the ring on her just for that ruse? Before he could, though, she held a hand up to cut him off. “Give me the USB.” As he did, she pulled out a mobile and passed it to him. “This is a burner. My number and Ned’s is on it. Only use this one to talk about this issue from now on. Got it?”

Jacob put the phone in his pocket, feeling a bit numb. “This feels like a goddamn spy movie.”

O’Dea snorted and turned on her heel, briskly walking away until she disappeared around the corner.

\---

When he got back to the house, he found Evie on the couch, knees up around her chest. The television was on, but she clearly wasn’t watching it; instead, she was staring blank-eyed at the wall, perfectly still.

Settling beside her, Jacob pulled her to his chest, forcing her to unfold a bit so that she could lean against him.

Her voice was muffled in his shirt. “Did you find anything?”

“No. But Ned’s working on it.”

There was a moment of confused silence as she processed this. “Ned? Ned from Crawley, Ned?”

“That’s the one.”

“How… Can he help?”

That made Jacob chuckle, even if there was nothing even remotely funny about the whole situation. “Since you left, Ned has become the fucking shadiest lawyer you _ever_ did see. He assures me that looking for people who don’t want to be found is something he deals with all the time.”

She nodded slowly, movement pained. “Inspector Abberline called twice.”

“Have they found anything?”

“The first time was to ask for more details about why Roth might have taken Thomas. The second was to ask if there had been a ransom call. There hasn’t.”

With a sigh, he shifted her a little bit more fully into his lap, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “We’ll find him. We will.”

“What if— what if he _does_ something—”

“No.” Jacob immediately took a hand and pressed her head firmly against his chest, cupped around her ears, as if he could somehow prevent her from hearing those thoughts. “Do _not_ think about that. There’s no point, and it will be fine. We're going to find him and everything is going to be fine.”

She shuddered a little but said nothing more.

The smart thing, he knew, would be to help her up to her bed. Then he could go back to his own flat— or at the very least, sleep on his own on the couch— and they could pretend for Mother’s sake, carry on the charade of a healthy sibling level of concern.

But her fingers were now fisted in his shirt, and letting go of her felt like it would be physically difficult.

Just a little longer, he thought, pressing his lips to her hair and inhaling that reassuring smell of strawberries and soap. Just a little longer.

\---

Jacob woke up in a tangle of limbs and with a terrible cramp in his neck.

It took him a moment to remember where he was. They had clearly both drifted off on the couch; Evie was still sleeping, eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed about something, breaths coming out in soft little snuffling puffs.

He carefully pulled her away, laying her back and grabbing a pillow to tuck under her neck. It was best that she slept. There was no point in getting up to wait and do nothing.

Padding out into the kitchen, he tried to roll his neck and rub some feeling back into it. The skin around his waist hurt a little from where the fabric had dug into it— clearly, there was a reason why people didn’t sleep in jeans. 

Mother was at the kitchen table, cup of tea in her hands and dark rings under her eyes. She looked about as alert as Jacob felt.

“Morning,” he grunted, reaching for some bread. He had no appetite, but all of the nerves in his body were still jangling for a fight, and there was the pervasive feeling that he had to be ready for anything.

He was digging his palm into the stiff muscles of his shoulder and waiting for his toast to be ready when Mother cleared her throat. “Jacob?”

Even without having been home regularly for years, Jacob realized that tone. It was the _difficult conversation_ tone, the one that heralded nothing good. “Yes?”  

“I saw you stayed the night.”

He could hear the meaning. _I saw how you two were on the couch._ “Yeah, I did.”

“Is… I’ve seen how you’ve been, and I mean… Thomas…” She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…”

There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.”

“I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…”

Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother.

Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Setting her mug in the sink beside him, she quickly left the room.

Wearily collecting his toast and reaching for the marmalade, Jacob reflected that this was probably the best outcome that they could all hope for.

\---

He had made it back to the living room, crumbs on his shirt and tea slowly settling in his stomach, when there was a shrill ring.

Evie woke up so suddenly that she nearly fell off the couch. “What— what is—”

For a moment, disoriented, he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t recognize the ringtone. It took a moment to click— of course, the burner phone. Darting to his feet, he ran to his coat, digging through the pockets until he could answer it with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Jacob.” It was Ned’s voice, broad American accent clear. “Two leads. We located Roth’s mobile signal—”

“You _what_? How?”

The response sounded smug. “I have friends in lots of places. Anyway, so we have that, but the analysts also just got back to me to let me know that they found what looked like mortgage payments in his bank statements from the stuff you pulled off his computer. It’s apparently complicated— something about a ownership by a shell corporation, blah blah, whatever— but they’re pretty sure he has a second property in Maidstone.”

It was the first that Jacob had heard of it. “Is that where he is?”

“No. How do you want to tackle this?”

With brisk flicks of his wrist, Jacob motioned Evie up from the couch, shrugging his coat over his shoulders. “We’ll go to Roth. Text me the address. Can you check the property?”

“Done and done.”

Jacob was already grabbing for his keys, trying to remember where he’d left his shoes. “Thanks, talk soon—”

“One last thing, Jacob.”

“Yes?” He wanted to stuff the phone in his pocket, run to his bike, but he logically knew that the few seconds of head start wasn't going to make any difference. Evie was sprinting around and trying to collect her things anyway, and he was hardly going to go without her.

“When you find him, please don’t do anything too stupid. Although,” Ned hedged with a chuckle, “if something crazy happens and you need a lawyer, you know where to find me.”

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Jacob leaned into the corners so tightly that their knees nearly brushed against the ground, but Evie couldn't find it in herself to care. For once in her life, she didn't want to tell him to be more careful.

The trees whipped by in a blur as she clung to his back, trying to channel all of her fear and worry into energy that would keep her from falling off his bike. Google Maps had said it would take an hour and a half to reach there. Jacob had said they could do it in an hour.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been on the bike. She could hardly check her phone for the time. Instead, she focused on chanting the same phrase over and over in her head, like it had some sort of protective quality.

_Keep Thomas safe. Keep Thomas safe. Keep Thomas safe._

\---

The coordinates that Ned had given them led to a fancy hotel in the countryside, one that looked like a honeymoon location. It seemed a strange choice for a kidnapping destination.

They both paused for a moment, staring at the façade. “So…” Evie started slowly. “What now?”

“I suppose we just go in and ask,” Jacob said, beginning to take measured strides towards the door.

The reception was decorated to look like a quaint country cottage, and the receptionist was a pleasant looking old lady in her fifties. She beamed at both of them as they got to the counter- but especially at Jacob, Evie noted, slightly amused even through her worry. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Jacob started, pressing his palms to the counter. “I'm meant to be joining someone- reservation for Roth?”

The woman clicked through the computer a few times. “I see it here- Room 302, up two flights and on the left. You're Jacob Frye, correct? We're expecting you.”

“Uh…” Jacob sounded as confused as Evie felt. “Thanks.”

They walked at a calm pace until they rounded the corner, breaking into a jog up the stairs as Evie whispered in his direction. “He's expecting us? What does that mean?”

“God only knows,” Jacob hissed back. “He's crazy.”

Around the corner and down one hallway, they found a door emblazoned with a gold _302_. They only paused for a second before Jacob pounded on the wood, squaring his shoulders.

There was a shuffle and a click, and the door opened to reveal Roth holding a glass of champagne and wearing a robe. “Hello, my de- oh. You brought her.”

They ignored him and Evie muscled past Roth into the room, immediately darting to the only closed door, finding a bathroom within. “Thomas? Thomas, are you here?” No response came, and the rooms both appeared to be empty at first glance. Her heart sank. If he wasn't here, then where- 

There was the clatter of breaking glass, and when Evie whipped around, she saw Jacob holding Roth by the collar of that stupid robe, shaking him. “Where the fuck is my nephew," he hissed, "you goddamned son of a bitch-”

Roth’s reply was incredulous. “ _That's_ why you're here?”

“That's why- of _course_ that's why I'm here, you fucker, why the hell else-”

“It's our anniversary,” Roth said, almost sounding like a petulant child. “I booked this place months ago, remember?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and the tension in the room was such that Evie had to fight the sudden and crazy urge to laugh. So it turned out that Jacob was bad at remembering important dates no matter _who_ he was with.

Jacob recovered first, shoving Roth away on the ground. “You're insane and I don't know how I didn't see it. Fucking insane-”

Roth’s head swivelled and he looked at Evie directly for the first time. It made her skin crawl. “You can have your son back, of course.”

She took in a strangled breath. “What-”

"Provided,” he added, “that you use these.” He reached into the pocket of his robe and tossed her an envelope.

She almost didn't want to open it, didn't want to give him the pleasure. But an odd curiosity compelled her; numbly, she opened the flap, withdrawing two sheets.

For a long moment, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then, finally, she raised her eyes to Jacob’s. “Tickets to India,” she said, disbelief and disgust no doubt clear in her tone.

"Take them," Roth drawled, "and you can have your brat back and both of you can go back to where you come from, so you can stop interfering with our lives-"

Jacob’s fragile sense of control snapped.

He was fast- she'd somehow forgotten how _fast_ he could be- a blur until his fist connected with Roth’s face with a sickening crunching noise.

“Jacob!” Evie lunged forward and grabbed at his back, trying to pull him away. The last thing she needed was for him to be sent to jail. Jacob was ignoring her, still punching Roth in the stomach over and over, but she wrapped her fists in his shirt and yanked him back. “Control yourself!”

Panting, Jacob stilled, staring at Roth with a fury that probably could’ve burnt through walls. Roth, for his part, was doubled over on the floor, still wheezing. His nose was bent a little oddly and blood was pouring from it, gushing onto the floor beneath. His lip looked like it was badly split as well, though it was hard to say from all the blood already covering his face. Evie's first instinct was to call for an ambulance, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to do anything to help this disgusting man-

Everyone in the room jumped a little when a ringtone suddenly blared out, shrill and tinny. Jacob recovered first, fumbling in his pockets for the same unfamiliar phone that he'd pulled out the first time that Ned called. His hands were shaking so badly that it took him a few tries to press the button properly, voice rasping when he picked up. “Hey, yeah- Oh my God. Is he— that… that… okay, great. Fuck, thank God. Yes. Be right there. Bye.” The relief on his face was clear when he looked at her, his whole body sagging a little. “They found him. He's fine.”

\---

Thomas turned out to be not that far away, in a small cottage that was a ways back from the street. Evie was nearly lurching off the bike before it had even stopped, but Jacob was close behind; at a sprint, they ran to the front door, yanking it open and rushing inside.

The hallway was empty. But beyond, in the kitchen, Evie could hear Thomas babbling happily.

Her knees would’ve given out in relief if Jacob hadn’t snapped a hand out, grabbing her by the arm and keeping her upright.

On shaky steps, she walked to the kitchen, and found Thomas sitting at the table with a glass of milk in his hands. He was explaining something to Clara, who was listening very intently with a smile. Evie could barely even hear the words— instead, she just lurched towards him as he turned and beamed with a delighted “Hi, Mummy!”

She didn’t start to calm down until her arms were around him, soft curls in her face as she stroked his back. She could feel Jacob standing behind her, his hand cupping the back of Thomas’s head, as if they both needed to feel him to confirm that he was real.

After a few moments, Thomas drew back with concern, peering up at her. “Mummy? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed, “yes, Monkey, I’m fine.” She knelt down so she could stroke his face, his shoulders, look for marks or bruises, any sign that he had been mistreated. “How about you, are you okay too? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Thomas wriggled out of her arms and hopped to the floor, taking her hand confidently. “I have a surprise for you!”

Confused, she followed him to the next room, with Jacob close on her heels.

Once there, Thomas proudly spread out his arms with a grin. When she followed his gaze, she found herself looking at a small puppy, some kind of Collie breed, curled up and asleep on the couch.

“Thomas? I… Is this your surprise?”

“Yeah!” Thomas ran to the couch and put his face even with the small dog. “Her name is Pepper. She’s coming home with us. She was hurt at nursery, and Mr. Lewis needed my help with her.”

“Mr. Lewis?”

A voice interrupted from the doorway. “A friend of Roth’s.” When Evie turned, she found Ned grinning from the hall, looking as satisfied as she’d ever seen him.

“Thank you,” she said, going to him and wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, _thank_ _you_.”

Even Jacob sounded a bit choked. “Thanks, mate.” He coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Where’s Lewis?”

“Bolted out the back garden when we arrived.” Ned gestured over his shoulder with a stab of his thumb. “But figured the kiddo was the priority here.”

Distractedly, Evie went back to Thomas, stroking his hair again until he squirmed away and made a face. “What have you been doing here, Monkey?”

“Mr. Lewis said we had to wait for you. I watched _so_ many cartoons, Mummy.”

“That…” The relief was almost debilitating. “That sounds like fun, but we have to talk about going with strangers again, okay?”

Thomas looked confused. “He wasn’t a stranger, though— he knew my name, knew you too!”

“Yeah, we…” Evie shook herself. They could have this conversation later, when she wasn't wobbly and Thomas wasn't obviously over-exhausted and hyper. “Let’s just go home now, okay? Let’s just go back to Nana.” Mother— she would have to call Mother, she realized, and Detective Abberline.

Thomas reached out for the puppy. “I’ll get Pepper ready.”

“I…” She watched him run and fetch a collar, not entirely sure how to react to this.

Jacob snorted from behind her shoulder. “Look at that.” When she turned around, his face was twisted like he was trying not to laugh. Or possibly cry. “All’s well, and we have a puppy now.”

She was so thankful that she thought her heart might burst. 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii hi hi hi so **CONTENT WARNING** : remember how back in AYM, these two were just tiptoeing into “consensual non-con”? (I think it was chapter 18?) Well imagine that they've become pretty practiced in this in the intervening years, so this is familiar territory for them. We know it's consensual and they know it's consensual, but that being said, the smut in this chapter is pretty much rape role-play. Please skip the entire third text break if you're not into that.
> 
> Also, uh, I tend to actually not call attention to the whole "siblings" thing during smut scenes, but I kind of lean into it a bit here. I guess I figured this whole series is almost over and I might as well play up the kinky stuff as a last hurrah. Enjoy? I guess?

“… _And so Dennis the Dragon learned that friends are better riches even than silver or gold._ ” Jacob folded the book shut with a clap. “The end.”

Tommy peered up hopefully from the bed, his head barely visible behind his stuffed horse. “One more?”

“That was the fourth! Which is already one more than you normally get. No, time for sleep now.”

“I'm not tired,” Tommy insisted, one of his eyes already mostly drooping closed, giving him the appearance of someone vaguely drunk. “Not sleepy.”

“Sure,” Jacob snorted, giving the boy’s hair a quick ruffle. “I believe it.”

“Not….” Tommy muttered, eyelashes fluttering.

Standing, Jacob went and flicked the light off before returning and switching on the small nightlight next to the bed. It bathed the room in a soft golden glow and put stars on the ceiling, a pattern that he and Tommy would sometimes use to practice numbers. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Apparently giving up, Tommy snuggled down in his covers and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Uncle Jake,” he returned, mostly a mumble. “Love you.”

Jacob froze, throat suddenly so tight that he could barely breathe. It was said so naturally, so easily, that it was hard to believe that it could go straight to his heart. He cleared his throat. “Uh, love you too.” The words were strange but perfect on his tongue.

Mostly because he could, he perched on the side of the small bed and stroked Tommy’s hair until the little snuffling breaths evened out and promised a peaceful night’s sleep.

\---

Ned met them both at a coffee shop, perched across from them at a booth. “I've done my best, but I don't think there's enough evidence to charge him. Lewis has gone to ground, and there's not enough to tie Lewis to Roth.”

It wasn't a surprise. But all the same, Jacob felt his stomach clench in anger, his fingers itching to hit something. He wished he'd been able to do more than break the bastard’s nose.

Beside him, Evie closed her eyes. “Is there nothing we can do to stop him from coming back near us?”

Fiddling with the rim of his cup, Ned cleared his throat. “Not… legally.”

They both raised their eyebrows at him.

“See, uh,” he continued, “I may have already intervened a little.”

He trailed off into silence until Jacob prompted him with an impatient roll of his wrist.

“Roth’s made some scary friends. Sufficed to say the club was being used as a drop point by some highly unsavoury people.”

Jacob didn't follow. “And?”

The smile that curled around Ned’s mouth was pure malice. “The police are about to get a series of tip-offs about these highly unsavoury people, and it's going to look _very_ much like the tip-offs came from Roth.”

Ah. And then they would exact their revenge. It was oddly fitting. Ned relaxed back into his bench when Jacob finally nodded, accepting this turn of events.

It was Evie who broke in softly next, her face earnest. “I don't know how we’ll ever repay you. You must let me at least pay you for your time, and Clara as well.”

Ned flapped a hand. “There's no need.”

Like hell there wasn't. Jacob was with Evie on this one. “She's right. You did something incredible, you ought to be thanked properly.”

For a long moment, Ned drummed his fingers against the table, mouth drawn in a tight line. Finally, he huffed out a sigh through his nose. “Jacob, do you remember when I first started going by Ned?”

Vaguely. “Uh-”

“And that Jackson Dawlish used to follow me and push me around, threaten me whenever I used the ’wrong’ loos?”

This part, he didn't think he remembered. For that matter, he wasn't sure where this was going. “I, um…”

“And that one time,” Ned continued steadily, “you walked in and caught him at it, and beat him so bloody that you were suspended for two weeks?”

He had been suspended a few times, and they sort of all blurred together. But he did remember feeling utterly unrepentant and refusing to apologise to Dawlish. “Well, I-”

“Because I remember.” Rising to his feet, Ned pulled five pounds from his pocket and slid it across the table, payment for his coffee. His face was blank, jaw slightly clenched, like he was trying not to betray too much emotion. “I remember like it was yesterday, and you don't owe me a thing. Okay? I'll see you around for a drink sometime.”

Without another word, he gave them each a dignified nod before he slid out from the booth and left the café.

Evie recovered from her stunned silence first. “I didn't know you did that. Why didn't you tell me?”

“It wasn't a big deal.”

“Wasn't a big- it sounds like it was a pretty big deal.”

Shrugging, Jacob rocked his head back and forth. “I don't even really remember it. Just that it was the right thing to do- honestly, not a big deal. It was what anyone would've done.”

“No, Jacob.” She took his hand gently, lacing their fingers together under the table, giving him her gentlest smile. “No, there are many that wouldn't have, but it's good that you did.”

He almost felt his chest literally puff out from pride.

\---

The passing weeks found them settling into their old routine, and in time it began to feel permanent. They marked the passage of months with little milestones, celebrations of Tommy’s developments and their own achievements, just like any other family would.

This particular evening, Jacob had been to a commendation ceremony for some of his colleagues. It meant pulling out his scratchy suit, which was never a pleasure.

By the time he had gotten back to his flat, he was more than ready to tug it all off. Discovering Evie sitting at his dining room table did nothing to dissuade that. Especially when she was a bit dressier than usual herself, sharp pencil skirt and stockings replacing the usual more lab-coat comfortable slacks.

“You look nice,” he commented as he passed her, going straight for his room to try and get something more comfortable.

She stood and followed him to the doorway, footsteps soft. “I had a client meeting. You look pretty nice yourself.” He was about to tug the suit jacket off when she murmured “You almost look like you could be my boss, like that.”

“Yeah?” He paused immediately, hands still on his lapels. When he looked around, he reacted almost instinctively to the dark interest in her eyes. “Are you into that?”

She made a noise in her throat that was definitely a _yes_.

“So…” He could wait to get out of the suit for a little bit longer, if that was the case. The potential here felt worth the discomfort. “You'll go get your heels and glasses be my hot secretary, is that it?”

Without a word, she turned and padded away.

When he followed her out into the living room, he found that she was indeed getting her heels, fairly sensible and solid things. Not the most immediately sexy, perhaps, but also very _Evie_ , and that was enough to keep him interested. As she straightened, he saw that she had gone a little pink behind the glasses she had pulled off the table. Adorable.

She was roughly equal in height with him with the heels on, and he made sure to really crowd into her personal space, their noses almost touching as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How do you see this playing out? Forbidden workplace affair? Horny secretary seduces her boss?” Even aware of the absurdity of all this, it still felt hot, especially with the wide-eyed stare that she was now giving him. “Lecherous boss has his wicked way with the poor secretary?” The last one made her pupils dilate and her breath hitch slightly; clearly a winner. The tightness in his pants agreed.

Before he could share this thought, she leaned in even closer, until their lips were now a hair’s breadth apart. Her fingers came up to absently fiddle with his collar, her voice soft. “How about- lecherous boss has his wicked way with the… _Unwilling_ poor secretary?”

Oh. Hot _damn_. “You're sure?”

“Do you mind?”

Fuck, no, he didn't mind. “I'll do it if you absolutely swear to me that you know your limits.” He made sure she met his eyes for this, that she could see how serious he was. “And that you'll safeword out if you need to. It's been a... While since we've done this.” Nearly half a decade, to be precise.

Her enthusiastic nod nearly knocked their foreheads together.

“All right then. Same hard boundaries as before you left?”

She grinned up at him. “Do you remember what they were?”

He remembered nearly everything about _that_ part of their time together. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” she purred, with a grin that held such promise that it made his cock twitch.

Stepping away, he straightened his face into a solemn frown and cleared his throat, tugging his suit jacket into place. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself settle into the right mindset.“So…” He exhaled slowly and pulled himself to his full height. “Miss Frye, what are you doing here working so late?”

It took her a couple of seconds, but she lowered her eyes and shuffled backwards a bit. “I, um… I had some paperwork I needed to finish up.” Some of her genuine work was lying on the table and she moved a few folders aimlessly, eyes firmly on her hands. He could see the light tremor in them now, a fluttering movement. She looked like she was biting the inside of her cheeks to stop from smiling.

“No boyfriend or husband to rush home to?” He closed the distance between them and braced a hand on the table on each side of her, caging her in with his frame.

Her eyes widened behind the glasses, almost comically afraid. “Sir?”

His brain made a vague and pleased scrambled noise- _fuck_ yes he could get into this. “Seems a shame that someone so pretty should sleep alone.”

“You're…” She cleared her throat. “You're making me uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be coy,” he murmured, lowering his lips to her shoulder as she stiffened. “I've seen the way you look at me. I know that you can't stop wondering about me- do you put your hand in your knickers at night and think about me?”

“I what- stop! I would never!”

“Miss Frye-”

She rolled her body and broke out from his arms in that movement, trying to launch herself towards the door.

It was fairly halfhearted, though, and thwarted by her impractical shoes. Jacob easily grabbed her arm, pulling her back and wrapping his arms around her waist, his very obvious hard-on now grinding against her behind. “That's no way to treat your boss, I would think.”

It couldn't have been his imagination that her wiggling grew more purposeful, rocking her hips against him. “Let me go, you bastard-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided, “what happened to Sir?” With a grunt, he picked her up bodily by the waist, shuffling to the bedroom. She got a few good kicks in against his shins, but they were definitely a lot more half-hearted than the real damage that he knew she was capable of inflicting.

He dumped her on the bed and she immediately scrambled up on her knees, heart-shaped ass wiggling as she tried to crawl away. Waiting until she was almost out of reach, he snapped out and grabbed her ankle, yanking her back underneath him on her stomach. Her glasses fell off her face at the impact, bouncing on the bed before landing on the floor. 

The sound that she made was plaintive, desperate. “Please, no, don't-”

It was easy to lean down and cover her with his weight, her back flexing against his chest as he pressed her into the bed, grabbing her wrists and holding them steady. “You want to run again? I like it when you run.” She stiffened when he gave his hips another slow grind against her behind. “Will you scream for me too?”

Her breath hitched at that, a happy sound entirely incongruous with the game, but he didn't particularly mind. Rearing back up, he yanked the skirt until it bunched around her waist, surveying the beige stockings and sensible underwear. When he raised his weight for just a moment to dig around in his bedside table, she immediately began to struggle again, trying to push him away.

He brought an open palm down against her behind with a satisfying sound. “Wouldn't do that if I were you.”

“Just-” she gasped, “I, please-”

The pocket knife was easy to dig out, and he flipped the blade open and pressed the flat of it gently to her skin. It wasn't particularly sharp, and he wasn't too worried as long as he kept one palm on her back so she didn't move too unexpectedly. It helped that she immediately froze when she felt the metal against her thigh.

She drew in a ragged breath. “What- please, Sir, what are you-”

The ‘Sirs’ were rapidly becoming a new favourite. “I recommend you stay very still.”

Working slowly, he pulled the fabric of her stockings away from her skin so there was no actual risk of hurting her, hooking the end of the knife in just slightly against the fabric. Once the cloth was a bit torn, it was easy to yank the seam open all along where the legs met, baring the knickers.

She felt that. He could tell by the way her hips twitched upwards just a little, knees sliding along the coverlet as she arched her back.

Next, he hooked his finger under the thin band of her underwear that rested between her legs, drawing it away from her body. It was impossible not to grin when he found the fabric soaked through. “Miss Frye, I don't think you've been entirely honest with me.”

She let out a long and low sound as he hooked the knife under the band and sliced it open, shoving the now-ruined knickers higher on her waist. Fuck, he could smell her from here, _see_ how wet she was.

He tossed the knife aside on the carpet and blew an experimental breath of hot air over her; she twitched and whined, an appealing sound that he immediately wanted to hear once more. But when he went to do that again, she abruptly bent up her leg and kicked him, catching him in the shoulder.

And if that wasn't bad enough, when he lurched back- caught by surprise- she followed it with a triumphant laugh.

For a moment, he saw red.

Shoving her hips up, he slid his hand underneath her and layered a few quick and sharp slaps to the cleft of her legs, grinning as her laughter trailed off into a keen.

"Oh sweetheart,” he murmured, climbing back up over her and tugging his jacket off, tossing it aside into the floor. “ _That_ was a mistake.” Taking a handful of her soft hair, he yanked her neck back, forcing her into an awkward arch. “Definitely a mistake.”

“Please-” One of her heels fell off as she kicked her legs against the bedspread, knees splayed awkwardly. The runnels of splitting stockings were now almost down to her knees, each movement wrecking them a little bit further. “I'm sorry-”

He took his time working his belt open, letting the metal click loudly. Then, quick as a flash, he drew it out of the pant loops and bound her wrists over her head with it as she wriggled on her stomach, unsuccessfully trying to elbow him.

“You know,” he started, straddling the backs of her thighs as she thrashed, sensible bun now a mess of loose strands against the covers. “I was going to work you up to this, make you come a few times, really be sure you were ready. Now,” he finally worked his cock free, giving it a few slow strokes to ease the ache, “I don't think I'll bother.”

Abruptly, she stopped moving, tensing and becoming perfectly still.

Almost conversationally, he wondered aloud as he took his cock in hand and lined them up. “I wonder which would be worse? If you're dry it'll hurt, I suppose.” He noted that her hips were twitching upwards, trying to raise herself up to make the angle better. These threats were meaningless; he could _see_ how fucking wet she was. “But if you're wet, it'll make you such a little liar, pretending you don't want this.”

“I don-”

The rest was broken off into a breathy yelp when he pushed his hips forward and yanked her backwards, shoving into her until his hips thudded against her behind.

He had to stay there for a second, fingers twitching against her hips as she panted. It was so warm and tight and soft, each clench of her cunt making him tighten his grip a little more.

“See?” He finally managed, triumphant. “Fucking sopping.”

Evie just put her head down with a moan, slightly muffled by the covers.

When he started to move, he kept it slow and steady for a few thrusts, getting his bearings. Soon, though, he leaned down and grabbed her by the shoulders, keeping them down against the mattress but dragging her backwards so that her hips were forced up, ass in the air until she was propped on her knees.

Then he started to fuck in earnest.

The low moans from her immediately became a broken high pitched wail, hitched with a sob when he took another handful of hair to force her face sideways. “I like to hear it.”

“B- I, it- is too mu-”

“Still lying,” he gritted out. Each slap on skin was accompanied with obscene wet noises from her arousal. “Such a lying little slut.”

That earned another wail and pleading sound, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

Refusing to slow, he leaned over as far as he could to get close to her ear, letting the breath ghost over her skin. “Like I said, I enjoy all this noise, but if you keep it up for long enough, people are going to come running.”

The sound changed into a ragged sucked in breath. “I-”

“And hell, I _told_ you not to introduce yourself as my sister to all the neighbours, but you went ahead and did it anyway.” Reaching around, he freed her shirt from the waistband of the skirt and shoved a hand upwards, pushing the bra aside until he could wrap his fingers around a taut nipple and pinch so tightly that she whimpered. “So imagine their shock when they all get in here.”

Her head was rocking wordlessly back and forth, loose strands swaying. “No-”

“By then you'll be begging, of course, so the whole thing is going to be _very_ embarrassing. You'll have to explain that they need to leave so you can keep taking your brother’s cock.”

The noise she made might have been words. It was hard to say.

Pushing forward as hard as he could, he felt the blunt head of his cock press against the limit of what she could take; alternating to a grinding motion, he swivelled his hips until she was twitching  helplessly underneath him. “You'd probably get off on that, though, wouldn't you?” Shifting his head a little, he licked a stripe along her neck, tiny downy hairs soft against his tongue. “Whore.”

“I- I'm not, I'm n-not-”

“With your pretty cunt on display like that there wouldn't be a man in the room who wouldn't want you.”

Evie’s distressed noise touched something deeply primal in him, a sort of dominating urge that basically emptied his mind.

“But you wouldn't let them, would you?” He needed a break or things were going to be over soon. Pulling out, he shifted to sit on the bed and roll her over, helping her up until she was straddling him, facing away, the curve of her behind swaying enticingly over his hips. “No,” he continued, settling a hand on her waist, using the other to take his cock in hand and gently sweep it along her drenched folds. “You'd never let them, even if you wanted to.”

She craned around, trying to look over her shoulder. Her balance was a little off because she couldn't grip anything, hands still bound by the belt in front of her. “I would never want-”

“No, you wouldn't let them because I own this cunt, don't I?”

“No!” The fabric of her shirt bunched as her shoulder blades clenched in panic and she wriggled again, fruitless against his grip. “You don't!”

“Sure I do.” He slackened his hold on her waist until she could move if she wanted to, and he felt her confusion, her hesitation.

Slowly, she rocked against him, as if testing the waters. When she tried to shimmy down on his cock a bit, he suddenly tightened his grip, holding her at bay.

It took a few tries for her to realise that he was now denying her. Her breathing was becoming laboured, loud in the room, as she twitched over him; unwilling to move away, unwilling to beg.

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-”

Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.”

She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?”

“It's simple- just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’.”

“I will not." Her face became even redder, which he hadn't thought was possible.

“Sure you will. We both know you will, eventually, so why not skip all the protesting and get right to it?” He gave her the biggest, most shit-eating grin that he could muster, desperately ignoring the urge to pump up inside her.

Evie’s furious noise was worth it.

“Go on. I'm listening.”

She ignored him, shoulders tensing as she hovered silently, taking deep breaths. He gave her a few gentle nudges, just barely sliding the tip along her, and she started to shake; he could wait this out. He could. He _would_.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait too long.

She finally groaned something ragged into the air, but he could barely make out the words. He wouldn't have that.“Look at me and say it again.”

“I can't-”

“Evie.”

Wide-eyed, panting shallow breaths, colour high in her cheeks, she ducked her head low but slowly met his gaze out of the corner of her eye. She looked so sweetly shy, her embarrassment clear, but she whispered the filthy words anyway. “This greedy cunt belongs to my brother.”

Jacob’s control snapped.

Her gasp was an excited one when he pulled her down, yanking her back up and setting a furious bouncing motion as he pounded up into her. In moments, she was just chanting his name over and over, and when he yanked her hand between her legs and pressed it to her clit, she obeyed the motion immediately.

The broken sound of pleasure that followed from her was finally, finally enough, enough that he could relax and un-tense the muscles in his abdomen. Enough that when she clenched tightly around him rhythmically, he could ride it through, groaning as she wailed. Enough that he could finally let himself go, furiously chasing that feeling with thrusting hips until he came; it seemed to stretch on and on as she sobbed, the sound of her pleasure now completely indistinguishable from the sound of pain, his hips bucking erratically as his mind went white.

She practically flopped off him when he was done, both of them on their backs and panting into the air. When he'd collected his wits enough, Jacob staggered to his feet and wandered to the kitchen, splashing his face and drinking a glass of water to try and clear his head.

After he thought there had been enough time for her to come down from the high, he prepared a warm damp cloth and poured another glass of water, taking it to her and setting it down next to her head. She blinked up at him, bleary eyed as he crawled under the covers to unbind her wrists and prop her up before passing her the cup. “Drink up.” He made calming noises as she drank it, stroking her skin with his open palm and using the warm cloth gently between her legs, soothing each shiver.

When she finished the water, he cuddled her down and nuzzled against the valley of her breasts, comforting in their warmth and softness. “Was that too much?”

The blunt scratch of fingers against his scalp was heavenly, each movement soothing as she dragged her fingers through his hair. “No,” she chuckled, her voice a still a little breathless, before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It was just enough. It was lovely- you're very good at that. Very, very good at that.”

Satisfied, he settled against her skin and let his contented pride wash through the sleepy afterglow.

\---

They built up small rituals, little bastions of normality.

Sunday mornings at the park, for example. This time it was a cheery and sunny day, with children running back and forth in the cool breeze.

Jacob, for his part, was sitting on a bench with Evie. His paper was open in his lap, and he would occasionally lean over and butt in to try and help with Evie’s crossword. Pepper was happily lying in the sun at their feet, tired out by over an hour of frisbee catching.

“Ooh,” Jacob said, reading over her shoulder. “Four across, that's got to be _fart_ -”

“Stop just trying to shoehorn in rude words!” Evie yanked her puzzle out of his line of sight. “Honestly, you're as bad as Thomas!”

“Like Father like son,” he muttered very quietly to himself, noting that it earned him a tiny smile from the corner of her mouth.

He was most of the way through an article about upcoming match predictions when Tommy came sprinting over, nearly bouncing off the ground. “Mummyyyy- Do you have water, please?”

Evie picked up the bottle from her bag and held it out without even looking up from her puzzle. It was vaguely impressive, really. He had to admire that sort of multitasking.

Eventually, though, she raised her head and took the bottle back before Tommy tried to chug the whole thing back in one go and choke himself in the process. “Looks like you're making friends,” she said fondly, licking her thumb and attempting to wipe a bit of dirt away from the boy’s cheek.

“His name is Gabe,” Tommy said, immediately trying to wriggle away from being cleaned. “He's um, pretty cool, likes power rangers and- ew, Mum, stop- he has a game boy.”

Evie gave up on the dirt. “He sounds nice.”

“Yeah, and he also has a brother. I think I want one. Can I have a brother?”

Evie’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline, and without an ounce of remorse, Jacob threw his head back and laughed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer is away for repairs so this long-ass chapter was painstakingly written on my phone. I hope you're all grateful. :P
> 
> One chapter left!


	20. Chapter 20

Any minute now, Thomas was supposed to be finished for the day. Evie kept her eyes on the school gate, foot tapping absent-mindedly; he probably wouldn't even need picking up in a few years, but at seven, she still liked to walk with him back to the house. It felt like he got older every time she looked away, as of late. She imagined that the feeling would only get worse with time.

One of the other mothers gave Evie a quick wave, which she returned with a wiggle of her fingers. She couldn't help but smile at the reminder of one of the many reasons why Jacob preferred morning drop off to afternoon pick up. Apparently some of the rather predatory single mothers had a tendency to pay him a little bit _too_ much attention when there was time to linger.  

She could believe it. He was certainly more than handsome enough. And so attentive with his nephew, to boot.  _Prime_ partner material. 

Eventually, a bell rang and children came pouring out of the doors in a mad dash to get away from school. In the crowd, Evie spotted a curly dark head sprinting towards her, Thomas emerging from the throngs of children at a top-speed jog.  

She greeted him with a hug, but there would be no handholding on the way home. He was _far_ too grown up for that now. “Did you have a nice day, Monkey?”  

“Yeah- we played football at lunch and I got to be goalie. I've been practicing with Uncle Jake- I used some of the new moves that he taught me.”

“You’ll have to tell him,” she said fondly, trying to discreetly get a bit of dirt off his neck.   

They made their way back to the house at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine. When they got through the door, Thomas immediately perked up at the smell of cookies. “Nana?” he called out, kicking his shoes off. “Did you bake?”  

“I sure did!” The call came back, and he was once more off like a shot.  

Evie followed at a slower pace, tidying his shoes and hanging up his jumper with a sigh. No matter how many times she reminded him, it never seemed to matter.  _Boys._

By the time she got through to the kitchen, Thomas was at the table with what looked like two cookies stuffed in his mouth at once, glass of milk in front of him. Mother was still working over the stove, listening to a radio program, swaying and humming to herself.   

Evie got her attention with a tap to the shoulder. “I'm going to shower and change and then I'll be off?”  

“Of course,” Mother said, cracking another egg into a bowl. “Should I save supper for you?”  

“No, I think one of the girls is bringing sandwiches. I want to stay late and Anna’s offered me her spare bedroom, you’re still okay with watching Thomas?”  

“Absolutely. What's the book, this time?”  

Already in the hallway, Evie yelled back with the answer. “ _Middlemarch-_ should be an interesting discussion.”

\---

There was, of course, to be no discussion about any novels. Mostly because the supposed weekly book club didn't actually exist.  

Evie let herself into Jacob’s flat with her key, hanging up her coat before she went through. “Jacob?”  

“Kitchen,” he called back. Going through the rooms, she found him frowning over a pot of something, squinting at a stained recipe spread out on the counter.  

She cuddled up to him affectionately, giving him a soft kiss on his bristly cheek. “How was your day?”  

“Fine. Boring. Yours? Your appointment was today, wasn't it?”  

“It was indeed. I was annoyed- I can't see Dr. Bates any more. I've got this new woman, I don't like her as much.” She pulled out some cups from the cupboard and poured some wine for him, water for her. 

He ladled out some stew with a frown. “That’s a pity, I liked Dr. Bates. Can you ask for her back?”

“I already did.” She settled in at the table, accepting her bowl with a smile. Whatever it was, it smelled good. “The receptionist went on for some time about how Dr. Bates was a highly in-demand.” She stopped to pitch her voice higher, trying to imitate the receptionist’s accent. “ _I’m very sorry, Miss Frye, but Dr. Bates specializes in the insemination process, so once the first trimester has passed, it’s our protocol to move you to another doctor_. I made a bit of a fuss, but she held firm.” She sighed. “Perhaps the new one will grow on me.”

The conversation drifted away naturally, from Thomas’s progress at school and Ned’s upcoming nuptials to Jacob’s ongoing adventures at work. Eventually, the two of them migrated to the couch, where Garden’s Corner was quietly put on in the background.

Evie rested against Jacob’s chest, his hands vaguely wandering up and down. He was still entranced by the changes in her body even though they had barely begun, constantly patting at the ever-so-slight tenseness of her abdomen and cupping her swelling breasts.

“So,” he started, and she craned around a little so she could look at him. “First trimester over. That’s pretty exciting, huh?”

“Quite,” she murmured back. “It should be plain sailing from here.” The first attempt had ended in miscarriage at eight weeks, with a lot of tears and painful nights of Jacob stroking her hair as he held her tight. They’d deliberated back and forth with the doctor about using the same donor after that, but Evie was glad they had; she and Jacob had spent an age and a day poring over candidates before they agreed on one, and she didn’t want to go through that again. She had been insistent about a high level of education, and he had been equally firm about athleticism and evidence of a generous nature. It turned out to not exactly be a common combination.

If the doctor thought it was strange that her brother was so involved in the process, she didn’t say anything.

“I was thinking,” Evie added, twining their fingers together, “it’s getting time to tell Thomas. Do you want to be there? Maybe this weekend? I’ve talked to Mother about it, she thinks it’s time as well.”

He grinned down at her. “I can’t wait. I may be trying to film the reaction.”

“I hope he’s happy. He’s the one who wanted a brother.”

“He has absolutely no idea of what he’s signed up for.” Jacob looked positively gleeful at the idea.

“Neither do you,” she retorted, twisting around to nuzzle at his chin. “The spare bedroom is all set up for you to take over night time duties sometimes, you're in for a world of sleeplessness like you've never known before.”

His face fell a bit, and she immediately regretted bringing up his absence for Thomas’s birth. “I know,” he said quietly, accepting her nuzzle with a sad little sigh. “But I’m ready to learn.”

She knew of one sure-fire way of cheering him up. “Come on, up. Let’s move to bed.”

\---

Sunlight peeking in through the curtains, Evie blinked her eyes open. The clock showed that she still had some time before going to work, but before she could shuffle backwards further into Jacob’s arms and drift off again, she felt his hands start to move.

Giggling a bit sleepily, she mumbled into the air. “You don’t have to keep treating me like I’m glass, you know. I’m pregnant, not breakable.”

He made a noise that said he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Sitting up, she pushed him over and straddled him, cupping his face with her hands. She slept in a sports bra nowadays, mostly because they felt so tender, but Jacob’s eyes still immediately migrated to her chest and stayed there.

She snorted at him. “They’ll probably still get a bit bigger, you know. They did the first time around.”

“It’s like the boob fairy has come to town,” he muttered, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Like the tooth fairy but… Boobs. Wait, that doesn’t make sense because the tooth fairy takes teeth. Uh… The boob elf?”

“If I kiss you, will you please stop talking?”

His answer was immediate and confident. “Yes.”

They met in the middle as she wrapped her fingers in his hair, slanting her mouth to deepen the kiss. Rolling her hips, she could feel him getting hard in his boxers, quickly responding to her own readiness.

Despite her own admonishment about not needing to be so gentle, her chest really _did_ ache if she bounced too much, so she went slowly; even after tugging off his pants and wriggling out of her own underwear, she took some care, rocking slowly back and forth once he was inside. There was something very tender about it, which she enjoyed- like a leisurely dance rather than the usual race to the finish. His fingers- oh, his clever fingers- worked between them insistently until she was twisting and keening, pleasure rolling up through her spine. “That’s a nice way to wake up,” she managed a bit breathlessly, grinning down at him when it finally died down. “Do you want to keep going like this?”

“Uh…” Jacob looked a bit sheepish. “Can I come on your tits?”

She blinked at him for a second before biting her cheek to not laugh- that seemed rude, even if it was her first instinct. Climbing off him and off the side of the bed by way of an answer, she pulled him into a sitting position while she knelt, gently tugging the bra off.

He hissed into the air when she wrapped her fingers around him tightly, moving up and down in a practiced motion, adding twists of her wrist now and then. Every time she looked up at him, she found that he was blinking rather stupidly, staring back and forth between her working hand and her chest, breathing heavily through his nose.

When she leaned forward and gave the tip a delicate little lick, that was apparently the last straw; shuddering and gasping, his shaking hands gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her backwards. The white ropes of warm liquid spurted across her chest, slowly dripping down her skin as she beamed up at him until he stilled.

“Fuuuuck,” he whispered into the air, slumping down onto his back with an arm over his eyes. “That’s _so_ hot.”

She snickered at him, doing her best to wipe the mess away with the tissues kept by the bed. “We may as well enjoy it, right?”

The clock now showed that it was almost the hour to start getting ready for the day- but there was still a little bit more time. Just enough to snuggle in the afterglow, she decided, teasing out the last bit of enjoyment before they both had to get going.

As she slowly settled back down beside him on the bed, he reached out and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “Hey,” he said, gently tucking a strand behind her ear. “I’m glad I’m here this time. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad Tommy and Mother are here, and…” He poked her stomach. “I’m glad he’s here.”

Evie curled against his chest with a warm smile, letting contentment roll from her head to her toes. “I know. Love you too, dork.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s done! Both of my Fryecest series now finished. I can hardly believe it. 
> 
> I know there will be a bit of disappointment that Frye Baby #2 isn’t biologically Jacob’s- but for me, it just wasn’t in-character that Evie would roll the dice on that twice. For what it’s worth, I’m a big believer in blended families and that family is what you make of it. Plus, I was quite attached to the idea of the contrast, wherein Thomas was biologically Jacob’s but he wasn’t emotionally there for the pregnancy or early years; this baby won’t have Jacob’s genes, but he’ll be there right from the beginning and have a chance to build that early bond. And I mean- if it were a different problem of infertility, even if the relationship was fully legitimate, this would be the obvious route. 
> 
> Plus, for a crack fic, I am weirdly committed to the idea of keeping realistic consequences in place for this relationship. Yes, he’ll never officially be a full Dad. But that’s the price of them being together without absolutely abandoning the rest of their lives. On the plus side, he gets to be with the woman he loves, be regularly and consistently be around two kids that are (for all intents and purposes) his, and fulfil all the father-type roles in their lives. Sounds like a win to me! 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, folks. It’s been a blast. (ノ*゜▽゜*) If I haven 't heard from you yet, I'd love to know your thoughts! And if you're a regular commenter, thanks a million- you really keep me going. YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS


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